Joker 1: The Start Of A Joke
by EthanFlux
Summary: My interpretation of The Joker's Origins. Starting off in Arkham Asylum, long before Batman, a horrible experiment is being carried out inside its walls. Will this plan to understand the human mind backfire and create a monster? Review/PM!
1. Child Of The Asylum

Joker

Story One: The Start of a Joke

Chapter One: Child of the Asylum

**From the very first time I discovered the Bat-verse, I have loved one character most of all. From the early beginnings to the latest interpretations of the Clown Prince of Crime, The Joker has always stood out to me as the best villain of all time. **

**Now, this is my interpretation of his origins. The only criticism I have of the generally accepted (yet unconfirmed) origin story of The Joker is that it involves the cliché of him falling into a vat of chemicals. Not to worry, I haven't gone out of my way to try and discredit DC and it's established past, merely work around it. Please enjoy.**

* * *

The rain had worsened that Thursday night. Anyone who lived in Gotham would have noticed the dark clouds hovering in the sky earlier that day and it had crossed their minds that the storm was upon them. It was, however poorly timed, a relief that the rain had arrived on the crime-filled streets. It was almost like a shower washing the filth from the gutter, cleansing the city. But as we all know, transgressions are not so easily wrung from society. It was nail-bitingly chilly; crime was at an all time high, gang wars were as cold as the weather and the news of a suspected serial kidnapper was spreading through the populace terrifying families. The last two weeks had seen four mothers taken from the labour ward at Gotham General Hospital without a trace. Not a demand had been made, nor a shred of evidence was found and by the end of three days since disappearing, each mother was found deceased along with their newborn. Police were baffled, the public were frightened and at this very moment were waiting on the news of the fifth mother, snatched from her bed yesterday as she waited to give birth.

* * *

None of it really mattered anymore. The dark empty room, the lack of nourishment and the kidnapping. At this moment in time, they were but a blur in her memory as if it had all just suddenly ended here and now. The only thing that mattered tonight was her son. Giving birth to him safely and without event was all she wanted, all she needed. She suspected this is how the other four had felt too, caring only that their child survive the process. The pain numbed the reality of her situation and distracted the horrible flashes she imagined would happen when this was all over.

"The baby is crowning." Said the nurse, standing back for the other man in the room. He readied himself with a towel, kneeling under his hostage.

"I'm gonna need you to push for me, are you ready?" he asked and the mother nodded. He too knew she didn't care about her predicament any longer which only made it all the more easier for him. "Push!" The mother clenched her teeth, screaming and sweating. The nurse held her hand, stroking it and comforting her.

"One more time, breathe how I breathe. Now." The process was slow and agonising, with no way of seeing if anything was going well.

"The umbilical is wrapped around the neck." Growled the doctor. "You have to put a little more into this next one so I can get him out quick, okay? Go!"

He watched the labour intensely; the comforting nurse, the disgruntled doctor and the mother who knew precisely what fate had in store. The man pressed a red button under a speaker box and leaned in close.

"_Mr. Clemens."_ The deep voice rang over the intercom. The doctor couldn't look up at the one-way window just now, he was busy.

"Yeah, what?" he spat back, not in the mood for a conversation, or more likely criticism.

"_I hope you are aware of the value of my experiment and __**not**__ placing the subject in jeopardy?"_ continued the voice.

"All too aware, doctor." Mumbled Clemens. The mother screamed again as she tried to push her child out. The nurse padded her forehead with a wet cloth.

"_Then you are also aware," _began the voice again, _"of how much trouble I went through to acquire it."_

"Yes, sir!" cursed Clemens, then whispered; "Are you aware of how much trouble I'm going through not stabbing you with my scalpel?" The baby's stomach was showing now, only one more push to go.

"_I therefore expect you to take extra care when handling the specimen. It seems unlikely we won't raise further suspicion if we attempt to pilfer another-"_ The heart monitor interrupted the coms, blaring loudly at the increased heart rate.

"Doctor, steady." Informed the nurse.

"I know!" Clemens bit his tongue, right now was not the best time to distract him. The nurse switched between the mother and the monitor as the heart rate fell. It all started going wrong as the mother's heart stopped completely.

"She's going into arrest." The nurse attempted to resuscitate the mother, giving her mouth to mouth. Clemens knew he had to act fast to save the child, he didn't want to be responsible for another family's loss. He wrapped his hands firmly around the baby's abdomen and readied himself to force it out.

"_Take great caution-"_

"Give it a rest for a minute!" Clemens shouted. It was difficult at first, keeping a good hold of the baby with placenta covering it like film. Slowly, Clemens was able to draw the baby out and into the world. He grabbed the scissors from the tray and quickly cut the umbilical cord, unwrapping it from around the baby's neck. Exhausted, he folded the boy in his towel. "It's a boy." He gasped, breathless.

"_Excellent specimen."_ Noted the voice.

"Yeah, no problem." Muttered Clemens, placing the boy in a crib.

"_This is the perfect child for the examinations, we have everything we need in him."_

Clemens turned to the nurse who was standing over the mother. "How is she?" he asked.

"Vitals are returning to normal, she'll live." She said moving the mother into a better position.

"_She has worked hard tonight." _Said the voice. _"Retire her."_

"Yes, doctor." Obeyed the nurse, taking a syringe from the tray and injecting it into the IV. The colour drained from the mother and eventually, so did the last breath. As the nurse wheeled the bed out through the door, Clemens moved the crib over to the one-way mirror.

"I'll have more about his physical condition in a few days or so. Lucky to be alive though, so many things could have gone wrong." Admitted Clemens.

"_They did go wrong, Clemens. Yet he still lived through it. Only someone strong could have made it out alive, and now he's ours. Leave us."_ Clemens walked out of the room immediately. It took a _**strong**_man to be in that room after everything that happened there over the last few weeks. He took solace in the fact that history wouldn't have to repeat itself ever again, not if he had anything to say about it. Clemens would make sure of it; make it his life's mission to keep that boy alive so that atrocities would never have to be committed anymore. 'Lucky to be alive?' he thought. 'That wasn't necessarily the case, not in this kind of a place. Not in Arkham Asylum.'

* * *

**Five years later...**

"Patient Interview One. Subject has been designated 'Subject J' for testing period. Subject J is five years of age, height: four foot one, hair: brown, eyes: green, gender: male. He should be proud to be part of the trials, helping to further medical sciences and psychological understanding...aren't you? You should be. You should feel _**very**_ proud."

The man was tall, J could tell even though they were both sitting. He couldn't see the walls, but he could feel them they were so close. Though it was better than his room and there was more light emanating from the single bulb hanging from the ceiling as well. J held his legs tight to his chest, eyes down to the table. He didn't want to look up at his 'father'. The man liked to call himself that, but J knew otherwise. The man was young-ish, somewhere in his early twenties, strong build; he wore round rimmed glasses and despite his devilish beard he was developing a receding hairline. The bald patch atop his head seemed to give off the impression of a massive intellect which was not far from the truth. He wore a white coat, zipped up at the front and black leather gloves. On the collar of the coat was pinned a badge that read: 'Doctor H. Strange, PhD'.

"Tell me J," Strange continued. J couldn't see his eyes, the glasses reflected so much but he could sense them staring intently, "What memories do you have as an infant?"

"...little." answered J quietly, not looking up. He didn't understand anything; no one told him anything at all. The only person who spoke to him was 'father', and he only ever asked questions.

"Nothing?" J didn't want to talk; he just wanted to go back to his room. Whenever he was asked about his past, flashes would frighten him. Bad memories like the ones that plagued his dreams.

"The faces." He mumbled. Strange leaned closer, trying to catch every word. "I remember the faces." Repeated J. Even as he said the words, he remembered the horrible smiles, the sad frowns and angry smirks of the heads that rotated above him, drawing closer to their prey. "They look down at me, find me every night. Scare me."

"How interesting." Smiled Strange, leaning back in his chair. "Only five years old and already you've developed Coulrophobia. This is very fascinating." J didn't understand. Words meant nothing to him, not these words. How can he answer to this? For the first time, Strange's voice lightened, feigning good will but J was none the wiser. "Now that you're of age, I believe it is time that you are allowed to...intermingle with the population. Explore your environment, become exposed."

"You mean...outside?" asked J, looking up at Strange. How he'd wanted to see the outside. Sometimes, he would pass windows to the outside, but they were too thick. He couldn't see much, it was all blurry and distorted. He'd always wanted to find it. Strange chuckled demeaning-ly.

"No. No, outside is unnecessary." He said, throwing away J's hopes immediately. "You've been fed from your cell. Now I am permitting you to do so with the other subjects. It will be interesting to observe how you get along with them, and even more anticipating, how they react to you."

J didn't know what he meant. Who were these subjects? "Friends?" he asked sheepishly.

"No." Said Strange blatantly, deadpanned. "It's highly likely that the will attempt to kill you." Strange leaned in close, J turned away; he didn't like the smile. "But there's nothing you can do about that, is there?"

* * *

The Mess Hall was larger than any other room J had seen. It even had a second floor high up off the ground where the uniformed men were watching. Underneath them in the eating area, six tables took up half the space. Half of the other subjects were sitting at these, eating out of trays and Styrofoam cups. The rest were lined up at a small table where the cook was dishing out gruel. All of the men looked dangerous, J didn't want to be in here. He turned to ask the guard to take him back and that he wasn't hungry, but the man had already left and had sealed the door behind him. J shuffled into the line, waiting his turn. All of the people towered over him, all J could see was neck and chin. "Better watch out, little man." Threatened one prisoner.

"I'll be ya mummy if ya be my bitch." Jeered another, laughing with another prisoner. J watched as they walked to their table but didn't notice that the man in front had walked forward. The thug behind J rudely kneed him in the back, knocking him to the ground.

"Keep it movin'!" he growled. The cook pointed his ladle at the thug.

"Wait your freaking turn, dumbass!" J managed to get his food and sit down without another incident. There had been no one sitting at the centre table, so J picked the spot near the end of the table facing the door. As soon as he could leave, he would. The prisoners looked at him, glaring, their eyes staring for a long time. They would return to their food and eat, but glance again and again taking away any peace J might feel. Just when he felt most threatened, one of them decided to sit down next to him. J didn't make eye contact. In fact, he made sure that he kept this person out of vision completely in case he became violent at a moment's notice.

"Did you want some company?" he asked, his voice almost human but still very genuine. J didn't reply, taking his chances battling down the gruel. The man became even more curious. "Why are you here?" He noticed J struggling with the gruel, coughing it down. He smiled and advised; "It's better to pretend that you're downing chicken instead of this crap." J gave in, he had to say something.

"I...I don't know chicken." He mumbled. The man was taken aback.

"You mean you never had-" Something distracted him before he could finish the question. The distraction just walked loudly through the door, making its way up to the gruel table.

"...and when she said 'no'," continued the man to his followers as the cook shovelled a large slop of gruel on his tray, "I stuck that bitch in a hole 'til she let me in hers."

"Yeah, bet she behaved after that, Apone." Said one of the slightly less taller men behind him.

"Kid, finish up and get out." Said the man next to J. He was really worried now, trying to pull J away. "Just move to another-"

"What the hell is this?" echoed Apone's voice. They had been spotted. Apone approached the table, his posse in tow. He was stories above J who was too frightened to shive with fear. "You're uh, in my seat." Apone said with a less than friendly smile. "It's rude." The man next to J stood up.

"Guys, he's just-"

"Shut up!" ordered the thug onsider. Apone knelt down next to J who still wouldn't turn.

"Do you know what happens to little boys who take my seat?" he asked.

"No." Whispered J timidly. At this point, he could feel every eye in the room upon him. They all waited for what they knew was about to happen next. Without warning, Apone grabbed J by the scruff of the neck and tore him away from the seat.

"No!" shouted the friendly man who reached out to stop Apone but was pinned to the table.

"You stay put now, Garber." Said the thug in his ear.

"Get off me, Trig!" fought Garber. He watched helplessly as Apone dropped J to the ground, holding him by the collar.

"It's time you were physically educated." Hissed Apone, readying his fist for the first punch. The blow however was not made by Apone, but by J who threw his fist into Apone's face. J had never done a thing like this before, it almost felt like instinct. Unfortunately, the punch had little to no effect on his attacker. Apone punched J square in the nose, breaking it. The whole room heard the crack and watched in horror and eagerness as Apone continued to wail on J. "Respect! Your! Elders!" he shouted, delivering blow after blow. J wished he was dead. He was so confused and in so much pain. He turned to Garber, tears in eyes.

"He-" was as far as his plea got before Apone delivered another blow. A guard on the second floor was watching this one-sided bashing unfold before his eyes. Quickly, he whipped out his radio.

"Professor, Subject J is in conflict." He reported. "I am in position to assist. Over."

"_And interfere with the experiment?" _questioned Strange remotely. He didn't see why he should. _"If this is what must happen, let it be so."_

"Affirmative, sir." Accepted the guard, pocketing the radio. He didn't care as long as he didn't end up in the cage with these criminals. What was the life of a boy to his own life?

Garber couldn't stand anymore of this. He had to do something and fast. With all his strength, he kicked Trig in the knee, buckling it. He then released himself from the hold and knocked Trig away. Garber quickly grabbed J's food tray and whacked Apone in the face with it as hard as he could. "Get the hell away from him!" Apone fell off J, holding his wound. He quickly stood, facing Garber with his fresh graze across his face.

"You shouldn't have done that!" he barked. "I'll have ya sore arse on a plate!"

"He's barely old enough to go to school!" shouted Garber. Silence fell as Apone knew he had to back off. "You expect him to fight back, tough guy? A kid!" continued Garber. "How's about taking on the other murderers, rapists and psychos in here? At least they're closer to your height, let alone your age!" Apone cooled himself down; he knew that if he tried again, others would join in to stop him. He wiped his bloody wound and pointed threateningly at Garber.

"You just make sure he knows his place." He said calmly, but with the same level of menace. With the rest of his posse, Apone left the Mess Hall leaving Garber with the helpless J lying on the floor. Garber could barely recognise the boy he'd met only minutes ago. He picked up J in his arms and turned to one of the guards on the second floor.

"Aren't you gonna help him? Call a goddamn medic!" he shouted. The guard complied as Garber laid J on the gruel table where the cook helped him tend to J's wounds.

"He's making some friends." Said Clemens, not impressed by the experiment.

"It was foreseeable." Admitted Strange as they watched two guards enter the lower floor of the Mess Hall to inspect J. "It'll be a fight for survival from here on in."

"Do you ever have doubts?" asked Clemens.

"No." Said Strange almost immediately. Clemens turned to him, wanting to see Strange's answer in his face.

"But morally and ethically, have you ever been challenged to continue because of them? The idea that you...we can allow the treatment of life in such an inhumane fashion?"

"Morals and ethics stand in the way of progress, Mr. Clemens." Strange turned to the doctor, challenging his stare. "They must be removed if we are to overcome the obstacles of life. Sacrifices that must be made to better understand ourselves _**as**_ human beings in the attainment of power." He analysed Clemens's response carefully; nothing too serious. He was having doubts, but fleeting ones at present. One reaction did stand out however; Clemens took a step closer to the window, his eyes drifting to J fixedly.

"I understand...but he's just a child." He stared a moment before blinking, almost snapping out of a trance. "I should be down there treating him." He made his way towards the door, but Strange's voice forced him to stop.

"You've grown a certain level of affection for the boy." He said, amused. "An unwise decision on your part."

"No. I'm only passionate about the trials. Isn't passion good?"

"Temporarily. You've put your passions into a 'human' that may not survive the next few hours. I'd rather hate to think that you could not continue due to these troubling experiences." Strange approached the window, looking out at his world, his creation. "Attachment is a very difficult emotion to overcome. Treat him...if you must." He hissed.

"Thank you." Clemens said, continuing on out the door. Strange was no longer completely confident of Clemens's loyalty to him now; the man had obviously let himself get carried away. Why others find it so difficult to detach themselves from the horrors of their work surprised Strange. The idea that his own species hadn't killed each other by now was difficult to believe to say the least. Judging by Gotham's decay into decadence and depravity, this was to happen so very soon. Strange smirked as he saw Clemens enter the Mess Hall, checking J.

"Fool."

* * *

The Medical Lab was much cleaner than the rest of the facility, but only very slightly. Several machines lay unused in the back corner of the room and a couple of computer terminals were leant up against the wall by the entrance. J was sitting on a table in the middle of the Lab. The only things he could see out of his one good eye was his bruised and swollen cheek and Clemens sitting in front of him. If he focused in more closely, he could see the door and the guard standing by it. Garber paced in and out of view every now and again behind Clemens, watching the progress of the clean-up. At the moment, Clemens was about to start cleaning J's cut eyelid. "This may sting a little." He said, padding it with a sanitised cloth. It didn't sting as much as it did throb, but at least the blood was being moved out of his eye. "It's not very assuring, I know, but you're being very good."

Garber stopped, giving the floor enough time to rest. He surveyed J's battered form; the cut near his eye, his bruised cheek, bleeding nose and swollen lip. How a man like Apone could even consider doing this to a child over a seat was beyond comprehension. Perhaps he was territorial, maybe he figured this was some kind of a test or just to prove something to the prisoners and Strange. The only thing this would do is make Apone become more feared, especially amongst the prisoners who had children on the outside. It's just a shame that J had to be the one he proved himself with. "Will he need stitches?" Garber asked, sitting next to J who wouldn't turn his head.

"Only a couple." Clemens looked up, only just noticing who was addressing him. "Shouldn't you be in your cell?"

"I brought him in-"

"Which we are all grateful for, but unless you yourself have sustained serious injury, I insist you return to your hole."

"I just want to make sure he gets back to his, Clemens. Under the circumstances, I'm sure you agree. Unless you want your healing skills to be short lived."

Clemens had to admit that Garber was right. He nodded, "I suppose, under the circumstances."

"What's the boy in for anyway?"

"_**That**_ is classified."

"Like everything else around here. Look, I'm not surprised by that, and I can accept that bull, but I just can't accept this." He pointed at J. "This is absolutely the worst place for a kid. I know you saw what happened in the Mess...and I'm also sure that this sort of thing isn't legal."

Clemens sighed, there had to be something he could do. He took off his glasses and looked directly into Garber's eyes. "I will try and arrange some sort of escort. A sentry to take him from A to B."

"Thank you."

"But I can't be sure it'll happen. Until then, you keep an eye on him."

"Best I can. What cell is he in?"

"He's designated 'J', that's also the cell."

"Should be easy then; I'm stuck in I. No problems."

Clemens smiled for the first time in a while; a load had been lifted from his mind. He looked back over to J, still smiling. "Garber here will be taking care of you." J looked up at Garber who waved slightly. J turned back to Clemens; he wasn't sure if J was happy or sad. It was difficult to tell with J, the emotions were hidden deep within his mind. Clemens just accepted it and patted J on the head. "Good. Now, your nose is a little out of place. I just need to put it back together but to do that you will need to be very brave for me. Okay?"

J looked down, as if he could sense the answer to the question he was about to ask; "Will it hurt?"

Clemens cupped his hand over J's good cheek comfortingly. "Only a little bit." He watched for a response, but J gave none. Clemens assumed J was prepared for the reattachment, so he placed his hands either side of J's nose. "One..." J was already crying. "Two..." Garber turned away just in time as Clemens cracked J's nose back into place with one swift movement.

* * *

**That was Chapter One of the new Joker Origins story: Start of a Joke. I hope you liked it because I very much enjoyed writing it. It has been really refreshing to write something new after four stories of Red vs. Blue vs. Green. Keep in touch for the next chapter and following stories that tell of The Joker's less than humble beginnings. Please review or Private Message me your opinion.  
**


	2. Years Unspent

Joker

Story One: The Start of a Joke

Chapter Two: Years Unspent

**Chapter Two of my favourite story written to date. This one delves a little bit more into the goings on of Arkham Asylum and some of the reasons why all of this craziness is happening. I have had fun fleshing out these ideas which have only faded on paper after sitting on a shelf for several years. This is a project I have enjoyed returning to and I hope you enjoy reading.**

* * *

"Patient Interview Six." The rusted door creaked open, revealing the small boy and the sentry guarding him, one hand clasped over his shoulder. "Come in, sit down." J was guided to the chair and seated by the guard. The man stood back in a corner but Strange turned to him. "Leave us." The guard obliged and left the room. Strange leaned back in his chair, hands clutching each other professionally, glasses shining in the half-light. "Have you had dreams?"

J nodded.

"They are worsening?"

J nodded.

"How so?"

J didn't respond.

"You will answer me." Strange forcefully urged.

"It hurt." Said J.

"Good. You're opening up. I was beginning to wonder if we'd lost you since...last week's incident. Your mind is a very important thing, not only to myself, but especially to you." Strange had obviously not meant that entirely, neither did he expect J to understand anything he said. "You seem to have made a comrade to help you live and learn from your mistakes. Personally, I predicted nothing of the sort but this only makes this study all the more interesting." Strange moved his notes aside, clearing his throat. "How have you found general population?"

"Ok." The boy murmured.

"You appear to be healing up nicely. Good. I'm sure you will find today's activities to your liking." He leaned in closer. "We're all watching you very closely."

* * *

The laundry room was long and filled with lots of machinery. Already the prisoners were working away at various bits of equipment or folding clothes. Some of them glanced at J as he walked past, but none of them approached him while Garber was at his side. "What we do here is wash, dry and fold the asylum's laundry." He explained. "I don't think the warden knows, but if he does he's only letting Strange do this because he's a tight-arse." Garber laughed a little at his own joke, but stopped when he realised J wasn't reacting at all. "First; the water gets boiled by our fine furnace of the fair lady. It stays there until it gets piping hot, steam and all." It wasn't exactly a furnace, more a fireplace with a small vent hanging over it to carry the steam away. Next, he pointed to a long trough down the far side of the room. "That there is where we wash the clothes by hand. You get your piece of soap and...and...whatever this thing is." He was holding a board with gaps in the middle. He shrugged and dropped it back into the soapy water. "I never bothered to learn its name. Then we take 'em over to this dryer." Garber moved J over to a weird machine with many different layers. "First, we reel the clothes through this squeeze-y thing which gets all the excess water out. Then it goes into this barrel which whips the clothes around until they're dry. You pull 'em out and chuck them on this." He patted the lid of one of the machines. "This is the linen press. It steams the dry clothes until they are neat and flat. Once they are, you bring the clothes over here to this table and fold them, stack them and a few of us stay behind to pack them away. Any questions?"

"What do I do?" asked J.

"Wash duty _**then**_ fold." Answered Garber immediately. "Nothing in between. Have fun and remember that I'm always watching you." He ruffled J's hair and left him at the trough of soapy water. Watching the other prisoners as they cleaned their own clothes, J quickly learned his own technique. After a time, he felt a warm sensation in his stomach. His face stretched out into an expression he had never felt before. Even the people around him were lighter than before. Some of the men at the trough splashed water his way and he would splash it back. Before he knew it, the day was over and he was back in his cell, all alone once again. But every day after, he went back to the laundry and smiled with his friends. The days turned into weeks and a month had gone by faster than ever before. The prisoners showed him how to whistle, how to click his fingers and even sing a song.

"Well there she was, just a-walkin' down the street singin'"

"Doo-wah-diddy diddy-dum diddy-doo."

"Snappin' her fingers and shufflin' her feet singin'."

"Doo-wah-diddy diddy-dum diddy-doo."

"She looks good."

"She looks good."

"She looks fine."

"She looks fine."

"She looks good, she looks fine and I nearly lost my mind." Chorused the laundry crew. They all burst out into laughter, all of them happy and content. J knew now what it was like to have a bit of joy in his life as he laughed along with the men around him. This was happiness.

"Man, this kid is on fire!" chuckled Olufsen. "He catches on quick."

"J ain't no world class singer yet." Said Garber.

"Oh, and I suppose you think you got Frank Sinatra going on here." Retorted Hatzi. "Whoa, whoa little man." He said, straightening out a shirt J was folding. "You gotta make sure there's no dent in this shit."

"Yeah." Agreed Olufsen. "If Strange sees that, he'll go mental."

"Like he isn't already there." Joked Kline. "What happened to the last guy?"

"Strange took him down to his special vault." Explained Olufsen. "All he did was talk to the guy. Next time I saw him, the man was eating his own-"

"Whoa, not in front of the kid." Stopped Garber.

"Frankly, what he's doing to the little man here is sick." Continued Olufsen. "This is no place for a kid."

"Just be thankful he's in here with us and not-" Kline whistled. "It could have all been much worse." The day went on just like any other in the laundry; slowly, as the workload declined, the prisoners left until only J and Garber were left to pack away the clothes into storage.

"You've left an impression on those guys, you know." Said Garber. "They like ya."

"Do you like me?" asked J.

"Of course."

"Why do they only like me now?"

"They just didn't know you like I do." Answered Garber. "Making friends is a good thing here; the more friends you have, well...they're just good to have. They're the next best thing to a family."

"What's a family?" The question so shocked Garber that he didn't know what to say. "A family is..." he began, trying to pick his words delicately. "Well, you got a mother and a father and they have children."

"Did you have children?" asked J. It's not that Garber couldn't answer this question, it's that he almost didn't want to. He was thankful when Hatzi returned, out of breath.

"Garber, need your help!" he called. "Trig and Murrell are in a tussle in the rec area and it's getting bloody."

"Damn! J, stay here!" ordered Garber. He and Hatzi ran from the laundry, leaving J to put away the clothes. He didn't mind, he'd seen the others do it all the time. It was easy enough and pretty soon, all the clothes were tucked neatly away.

"Nice digs you got here." Came a hauntingly grating voice from the door. Apone strode inside, closing the door behind him. "This is where you go to get away from me? Now we got this whole room to ourselves." J backed up against the wall, moving along it, trying desperately to feel for another exit, but he knew there was none. "Don't be going mental on me." He said in a disturbingly calm voice. Apone's eyes stared longingly at J and this scared him. J started throwing soap at him but they just bounced harmlessly away. "Whatcha tryin' to do? Clean me to death? Come here!" Apone leapt for J, but he was too quick. J ran for the door. Just as his hand was inches away, Apone wrapped his arm around his stomach and pulled him over to a linen press. J struggled but the huge bulk was too strong. "That's it." He said. "Stay calm. It'll all be over soon." J was bent over just above the searing heat of the linen press. "You stop me, you get hurt more than you need to." Warned Apone. J heard him unzipping his trousers and feared what would happen next. With a last ditch effort, J reached up and slammed the boiling lid of the linen press, smashing it into Apone's bald head and searing his skin. Released from his grasp, J ran from the room and down the hall straight into another man. J didn't care who it was, he hugged them for dear life. He just wanted them to make Apone go away. He arrived a few seconds later, blaring and shouting; "Wherever you are I'll-" but he stopped.

"You'll what, Apone?" asked Clemens. It was he whom J had run into. Standing behind him were two guards, each armed with a cattle prod. "I'm waiting."

"Nothin'." Said Apone pitifully. "I wasn't doing anything."

"Yes, well I hope you realise that actions speak louder than words and from what I can tell, you _**were**_ doing something." He turned back to one of the guards. "See that the prisoner gets escorted straight into his cell and locked tightly inside."

"Yes, sir." The guard shoved Apone with the butt of his stick. "Move it." Clemens knelt down to J's level.

He was about to return a comforting hug when J said two words; "Thank you." They snapped Clemens back into the reality of the situation, why he was here and everything he was working for. As much as it broke his heart, Clemens pried J away from him and held his arms down at his sides.

"You're safe now." He assured simply.

"He'll be back, won't he?"

Clemens sighed; "Not if I can help it."

* * *

"Request denied." Strange leaned back into his chair, unmoving in posture and resolve. Clemens tried to regain the strength he had used to ask his previous question.

"A personal guard is all I am saying." He tried, though his words were hindered by a lack of air. "Even you can see that he doesn't have the same chances every other prisoner has in here. He has no way to defend himself; he doesn't understand this place like we do."

"We've been over this a hundred times." Strange pronounced loudly. "We knew from the beginning that the child would know nothing. You were fine with it then and you should be fine with it now."

"_**Then**_ it was a theory. _**Now**_ it's a reality." Fought back Clemens. "Haven't you gathered all the information you need? When will this end?" Strange stood up, rounding his table and towering over Clemens.

"You do realise, Mr. Clemens, that if I can make pregnant women from a hospital disappear without a trace that it would be no challenge to do the same with an insubordinate doctor!" he bellowed, flecks of spittle hitting Clemens' lenses.

"Is that a threat, Hugo?" he asked, returning Strange's unbreakable stare.

"I don't threaten, David." Mocked Strange. "I only tell you what to expect. No. Special. Treatment." He waited to see if Clemens retorted once more, but his mouth was sealed shut. Strange sat back down in his seat, victorious. "Have J taken to E.I. Cell Three." Clemens' eyes widened, but he dared not speak. "You will monitor and report back. Be thankful I don't order you to join him." With that, he spun around and blocked the doctor from his world. Clemens took J for a walk to a part of the compound he had never been to before. The doors of the cells looked different; armoured, bolted and more secure. Before he could ask where they were going, Clemens stopped at one of the hatches marked with a large painted three. The guard removed his shock stick and held it at the ready while Clemens opened the door. He basically pushed J inside.

"Wha-" Slam! The door was sealed shut. It was pitch black in here. Even his own cell had a small bit of light that cleaved the darkness, but this room didn't even have a flicker. All he could hear was his own intense breathing and his hand sticking to the door because of all the sweat. It was then that he became aware of the other set of lungs breathing almost as fast as he was. J wheeled around uselessly to try and see who else was there. "H-Hello?" he called quietly. No one answered. "Hello?" he tried a little louder.

"Hello?" mimed a sickly high voice. J froze. He figured as long as he didn't move, the other thing, whatever it was, couldn't find him. This was true, until the lights were turned on. J hadn't noticed that only several inches away was a man unlike any other; he was deathly thin, wearing a mask about his mouth that clamped his jaws tight and the raggedy white remains of trousers. He screamed horribly as the light stung his eyes, the pupils dilating immediately. In pain, he knocked J to the ground and crawled around the cell, barking and howling in blind madness. The child locked with him lay in the corner, scrunched tightly into a ball and screamed too, clear and concise pleas to be let out. Pleas that only fell on deaf ears. As the minutes slowly ticked into hours, this gave J time to think to himself. He thought about how the one good thing about his life here had been snatched away, why he was constantly experimented with and whether there was a better place away from these cold walls where he could be free.

* * *

Garber walked through the Recreation Hall, looking around at all the inmates working out on the various equipment lined up around the room. He had been searching all morning; the last time he saw J was yesterday when he left him in the laundry. When he had returned, there was no one there. All the clothes had been packed away so he naturally assumed that J had gone off to the Mess Hall for dinner. When J hadn't shown up there, Garber figured he was already back in his cell. Today, no sign whatsoever. "Hey, you guys seen J?" he asked a group of prisoners. They all shook their heads. Garber continued on to his mates from the laundry, all of them unaware as to J's whereabouts.

"I ain't seen him since I cleared out yesterday." Shrugged Olufsen.

"Same here." Dittoed Kline. Garber rounded on Hatzi, hitting him with a heavy stare.

"Hey, man." Defended Hatzi. "You know I haven't seen your boy. I was with you all afternoon. Don't go thinkin' I do anything to a kid."

"Right, okay." Agreed Garber.

"I've done some pretty shitty stuff in my life that I'm not proud of, but I never touched a kid."

"Fine!" shouted Garber, fed up with the constant defence. Realising it was uncalled for, he calmed himself down. "Sorry." He apologised. "I'm just worried about him, you know. He shouldn't be alone. Man, I should have stayed with him."

"Bro, it's cool. Strange probably has him tucked away somewhere, no biggie." Comforted Olufsen.

"Probably in an observation room or somethin'." Suggested Hatzi.

"Garber." Kline stepped forward. "This thing with J...does it have something to do with your own family?" Garber really wished Kline hadn't asked that question. "Is it, maybe you're looking out for this boy, because of what you did to get-"

"Bite your tongue." Warned Olufsen. "The man's personal business is his own damn personal business. If he don't wanna talk about it, he don't have to. We're all in here and there are reasons for all of us. Just cos some of us flaunt it, don't mean the rest are proud of it."

"Oh shit." Breathed Hatzi. He was worried, staring at the entrance to the Recreation Hall where Apone stood. The source of Hatzi's worry; the half grin plastered on his face and the burn mark on his bald top.

"There's only one reason why dead-bolt ever has a smile." Said Kline but Garber was already striding across the room towards the giant, halting before the goliath.

"Where is he?" he asked through gritted teeth.

"Who?" taunted Apone.

"You know goddamn well who. He's done everything in his power to stay away, I've seen to that, and now you wanted him all to yourself. You selfish piece of pathetic inhuman garbage." The other prisoners in the room slowly moved in closer, sensing an imminent confrontation. Even the guards above were changing posts to get a better view. Apone leant down to Garber's level.

"I didn't touch your boy."

"You're lying."

"Didn't have to touch him though, even though I really. Wanted. To." He leant back, the smile had grown. "Last I saw, Doc Clemens was taking the runt past my cell and to Extreme Isolation then I fell asleep, having sweet dreams 'bout having my hands on him. God only knows what they did to him over there...but I bet they enjoyed it as much as I would've." Apone chuckled in the face of Garber. Garber chuckled back, turning to see people were watching, then punching Apone in the gut to no effect except that his grin almost impossibly widened.

* * *

"We've had a tussle in the rec hall. Prisoner Garber was injured; he might need stitches." Informed Nurse Chaplain.

"Okay, send him in." said Clemens, putting down his Sudoku puzzle. He stood up and picked a few instruments off the table and turned to see Garber walking through the door. There was a large gash on his forehead and his left nostril was blocked with dry blood. As can be expected, he didn't look too pleased. "Hi there, Garber. Apone made a map of your face, I see-" Whack! Garber right hooked Clemens in the face, sending him to the floor.

"You son of a bitch!" he shouted.

"What the hell did I do?"

"Extreme Isolation! Those people are there for a reason and you let a kid take a walk into one of those cells?" Garber shook his hand which was throbbing from the punch. "There's a circle in hell for people like you and the man upstairs. No, I'm not talking about God. I'm talking about the man who's _**playing**_ God with all of us! You're worse than he is; you promise you'll look out for him and you put him in the darkest hole you can find!"

"That's enough! Enough!" yelled Clemens, holding his own nose. He picked himself up off the floor and leant against an instrument tray. "Yes. Okay, I took him to E.I. on Strange's orders. He got frightened and after a couple of hours we let him out."

"Jesus." Breathed Garber. "Hours?"

"He just ran. The guard made sure he got out of E.I. and back to general population." He recalled. "Nothing bad happened. I promise." Garber pushed his hair back nervously, agitated.

"I haven't seen him. All morning." Clemens' face slowly changed from cool to uneasy. After a moment of thought, he stood up and left the room, followed swiftly by Garber. They quickly walked to the cell block and stopped at J. Clemens unlocked the door, opened it and was met with a terrible emptiness. No one was inside. "I told you," continued Garber, "I've looked everywhere. No sign of him." Clemens bit his finger in deep thought while Garber worriedly paced. "What are we gonna do?"

"You weren't here." Said Garber.

"What?"

"You weren't here. You never noticed J wasn't present and you didn't come to me."

"Clemens, have you gone nutty on me?" asked Garber.

"If I go to Strange and tell him you've been nosing around, he'll get to J through you." Explained Clemens. "I don't want that to happen. No. I'll tell him I discovered the boy was missing."

"But what if Strange has him?"

"I'll check without raising suspicion, then I'll come back later and tell him J's gone." Clemens made Garber turn around. "You'd better get over to the rec hall. I'll take care of everything." Clemens had no doubt in his mind that Strange could not be fooled by the likes of him. He would give it a try, but the chances of success were slim. Despite the odds, Clemens tried to keep his concerns hidden when he entered Strange's office. "Excuse me, sir." He said politely.

"What is it?" responded Strange, in no mood to be interrupted.

"I was just wondering if you needed to supervise Subject J at the moment." Strange turned around in his seat, gazing at Clemens suspiciously.

"Why?" he asked simply, emphasising the h.

"I'd just like to do a blood screen. See if he's not caught something nasty like cholera." Clemens licked his dry lips. "It would be a shame to have to cut the experiment short." He added, keeping his gaze straight.

"Yes. Wouldn't it?" grinned Strange. "You may proceed." Clemens turned to exit but was stopped by;" But won't that be a little difficult seeing as Subject J is missing?" Clemens dropped his hand off the handle and turned around.

"I don't know what you mean." He said pitifully, already aware that his lies were already transparent.

"I'm not angry." Assured Strange in a not so assuring tone. "The boy brought this on himself."

"Wait. How long have you known?" asked Clemens.

"For a while now." He said simply.

"Why haven't you told us?"

"Because it's all part of the experiment." Strange affirmed. No sooner had he finished his sentence did the ringing of alarms blare above them.

"That's coming from the Asylum!" exclaimed Clemens, running from the room to reach the source. Strange merely looked up and settled back into his chair.

"My, how far you've gotten."

* * *

The corridor was in an uproar; dozens of people locked in their cells all barking at the young boy who had appeared so suddenly from nowhere. He himself had never seen a display such as this. Despite their imprisonment, J still felt threatened by the howling shadows from inside their cages. All the times he had heard his friends talk of getting 'up and out', he never expected that _**this**_was out. This horrible place, no better than his home. What was this world? He had a feeling that this wasn't all it was, all it could be. That's when it hit him; the light. It was different to the one he was used to. This one had warmth. When it touched his skin, he absorbed it with a great hunger, feasting on it. His face was bright with this bliss as he stared out at the true world. The one beyond the bars, outside the prison. All he wanted to do was to run out and have it all, but it was not to be so. Two men swept him up in their arms and carried him down the corridor, kicking and screaming the entire way back down. The last thing J saw that day were the two guards who had carried him to his cell, closing the door to the light. Even shrouded in darkness, J could still feel the glow of the light on his cheek, the warm touch that had filled him up. He would cling onto this memory, the idea of the outside. His first taste of the world had been a banquet of delight. The thing about a taste...it can start an incurable craving.

* * *

**Thank you very much for reading Chapter Two. It was originally going to be longer, but I couldn't fit every aspect I wished into the story; e.g. the specific introduction to the Recreation Hall.**

**If you enjoyed this chapter, I know you will like the next one. This last paragraph should give you a hint as to what might take place next time, but I will try not to spoil it for you. Once again, thanks for reading and don't forget to review or PM me!  
**


	3. Cravings

Joker

Story One: The Start of a Joke

Chapter Three: Cravings

**Chapter Three! Ooh, I love this one. In my mind, it really kicks off a little more in terms of character aspirations and definitely the backstory of The Joker himself; the drive and his resolve. **

**As we continue through, I hope you as the reader can understand why I chose this to be my specific ideal of The Joker's origins. After a few more stories, I may even be able to elaborate further. Until then, enjoy!**

* * *

"Do you know what authority is, Strange?"

"Yes." He answered, understanding the tenable position he was in.

"If that were true, I would expect you to follow by my example."

"Yes." Replied Strange once more.

"When my men report to me that they have found a small boy running through general population without having been spotted entering through the front door, I get anxious enough." The man poured himself a drink. "To later discover that he is not only part of our prisoner population but also that he was taken back, on your orders, to a facility I know nothing about and therefore have not authorised it is an outrage!"

"I understand how you must feel, Jeremiah-"

"That's Warden Arkham to you, doctor!" barked Jeremiah, nearly spilling his drink. "Where do you get off making my father's asylum your own personal petting zoo?"

"I assure you that I had no intention of-"

"Stuff it!" shouted Jeremiah, stepping closer to Strange and rising to full height. "If you'd asked me nicely, politely, I _**might**_ have agreed to it. But you didn't and I won't." He rounded the desk, sitting himself prominently in his chair. "As far as I'm concerned, you're lucky I'm only axing your experiment and not you. And I'm not talking career-wise either. _**That**_ was as close a threat as you'll ever hear from me."

"Understood." Said Strange, feigning submission and gratitude.

"I hate to admit it, but you're the best shrink we have. Your ego leaves much to be desired, believe me. You can't just strut around thinking you own the place. You're a doctor, I'm a warden and wardens call the shots in the funhouse. This warden says 'playtime is over'. Your experiment is over." He took another swig of his brandy. "I expect it to be converted into asylum cells and the prisoners released back into my hands."

"Hmm..." considered Strange. "That's not what I hoped you'd say." He said.

"Well, I said it. Surprise." Mocked Jeremiah. "You want me to sing it too?"

"You will approve of my work," asserted Strange, "and not interfere again." Jeremiah stood and leaned over his table.

"Didn't you hear me?" he barked in a restrained manner.

"Oh yes, I did." Assured Strange. "I agree with everything you say except for one thing. Yes, there is a divide between us. I a doctor and you a warden, but do not think for one minute that this margin of titles makes you better than I. The mind is such an easy thing to read and I've already finished the brochure equivalent of your own. This is why I know that my experiment will continue and he will approve."

"And who might 'he' be?" Jeremiah glared directly into Strange's spectacles, staring him down. Strange didn't falter, he just glared right back, the light reflecting off his glasses burning into Jeremiah's mind. It was hurting his head. The small pain slowly grew into a nagging migraine. The room slowly dissolved around him, his legs felt as though they might give way. He held out his arm to steady himself on the table, but it was not necessary. "The prisoners." He began in a raspy voice, different to his usual youthful tone. "What will happen to them?"

"Just as Amadeus would have wanted; liquidated." Answered Strange. He watched as a grin etched its way across Jeremiah's face.

"You mean how _**I**_ would have wanted." Corrected the warden. "You may proceed." He continued, sitting back down in his chair. "Jeremiah will no longer impede your progress. I'll make sure to that...just as long as you dispose of the scum."

"Consider it done." Strange walked to the door but just as he reached the handle, a thought occurred to him. "May I ask another favour?"

"Mmm-hmm." Nodded the warden, his fingers locked together under his nose.

"'Doctor' is such a generic title. Call me...Professor." Already certain his request would be met, Strange walked out of the office and back downstairs. He didn't need interruptions and needless to say, he was annoyed at the constant nagging doubting voices that plagued him. His associates, his 'superiors', they all had reservations and couldn't keep it to themselves. Why was it that only he, Hugo Strange, understood that what they were doing was for the betterment of all mankind? He had no doubts. They did, and he knew why. He opened cell V and stood in the doorway staring at the man squinting back at him. Apone could recognise Strange's silhouette through the blazing light in the hall, but questioned why this man should choose to enter his cell without an armed escort. Either way, he wouldn't dare attack this man; danger was written all over him. You daren't try to hurt him because he would do the absolute worst to you. But nothing came. Strange just considered over Apone for a moment then removed an object from his pocket and threw it on the floor. He picked the key off the floor and noticed the letter etched into its face. By the time he looked up again, Strange was gone having left the door wide open. With slight apprehension at first, Apone tentatively peered through the door. Outside, the guards were following Strange down the corridor, not attempting to stop Apone from escaping, even when they saw him. When no one else was in sight, he began walking past the cells, down the alphabet. With every step, he became more confident that no one would stop him.

"Wh-No. No!" shouted Garber, noticing Apone striding freely past his cell. He watched, helplessly, as the thug stopped outside J's cell and held the key to the lock. "Help! Help!" he shouted uselessly.

"Help! Help!" mocked Apone over Garber's continued cries for help. He slipped the key into the lock.

"Don't go in there, you bastard!" warned Garber. "He's not well! He's sick! Stop!" The lock clicked and Apone pulled the door open. Shaking in the centre of the room was the small boy he had had his eyes on all this time. He wasn't scared but the widened eyes were dilated down to tiny specs. They shifted around the room and fixed on Apone. This didn't faze him; he didn't care what condition J was in, he just wanted him now.

"I'm gonna savour this moment." He said. There was a loud buzz and the titan crumpled to the floor. Behind him stood Clemens, cattle prod in hand, watching carefully as Apone twitched on the ground, drooling out of the corner of his mouth. He pried the key from Apone's limp hand, a burn mark of its shape seared into his palm. Clemens stepped over the lump and checked on J who didn't seem to be aware of anything that had taken place.

"J?" checked Clemens, taking his pulse. "Can you hear me?" J didn't respond, he didn't even blink. The boy was in a deep trauma. "Shit!" He picked up the young child in his arms and kicked the door shut.

"Doc!" sighed Garber in relief, but then he noticed J's condition. "Hey, what's happening? Is he-"

"Not now, Garber! Later! Later!" shouldered Clemens as he carried J quickly towards the medical lab.

* * *

"Patient Interview Forty-Three. Subject J attempted escape but was recaptured by Arkham staff. Subject appears to be...in withdrawals." Strange looked across the table at the small boy shivering in his chair. It was colder in this dungeon than ever before. Not that the temperature had changed, just him. "This is very fascinating. Describe to me what you are feeling?"

"S-Sad." Shivered J. "Cold. L-Lonely." He choked.

"Your body is removing the abnormal element it has experienced...or at least, remove the longing for it." Strange leaned back. "You should not have tried to leave us. Now you will be in considerable discomfort."

"I-I miss...the f-f-feeling." Whispered J. "The w-w-warmth. Please give it back to me."

"No."

"Please!" J moaned.

"You are not to attempt an escape again. Not for any reason." Strange declared firmly. "Do you understand?" He stared deeply into J's eyes, bearing down his authority upon the tiny figure.

"No."

* * *

"Argh!" The screams rang out throughout the asylum, seeping into its walls and ageing the metal. J was tossed into his cell, the guards were finished shocking him with their cattle prods. They slammed the door shut and departed, their footsteps fading into silence. Garber waited silently until they were far enough away. He listened to J's laboured breathing; shallow and upset.

"The pain will go soon." He said, unsure it was the right thing to say. He guessed at this point, in this place, there was no right thing. "Just keep breathing and don't move. Your muscles will unclench when the shock has passed, believe me. I know." Garber paused, waiting for a noise, just some sign that J could hear him and that he was alright. His breathing seemed to slow and that was enough for him. "On the outside, I didn't have anyone looking out for me." He continued, trying to build up to his point. "I was a loner and I was petty. Then Rachel turned me around. Slowly at first, then when I found out we were gonna have a baby, I knew then and there that I had to get my act together. I got a job, bought a house, nothing too fancy but it was our home. We got married and had a few more children. For a while, it all went well. We were happy." This was what Garber had been building to and the words came to him with more difficulty. "B-But I couldn't cope. The work was too...clean. I got dirty again, I couldn't help it. It got to the point where I felt like the world was suffocating me, my own family was in the way." Garber couldn't finish his story like this. He bit his lip to stop himself from crying. "To answer your question, J, yes I had a son. His name was Luke. He had two sisters called Krystelle and Miriam and I loved them all very much. They're all gone now; the kids, Rachel, the house...because of me." He tried to keep himself together; this was all so hard for him. He had never admitted it to anyone else or himself for that matter. It was about time that he did. "I deserve to be in this place more than a lot of these other guys. I've got the blood on my hands and I've paid for it. When I saw you in the Mess, kid, I thought it was a sign of redemption. I promise I'll always be there for you, J. Even if I wasn't there for my family." He sat in silence for a moment, exhaling his past. He meant every word. Then, it had been silent for too long. "J?" Garber stood up, walked to the cell door and peeked out through it. "J?" He could just see, wide open, J's own door. Garber looked from left to right but J was nowhere in sight. He opened his mouth to call for help but then decided not to shout anything. He hadn't seen the open door, he didn't know that J was gone and if anyone asked, he had been sitting quietly in his cell counting the seconds ticking by. Garber took a seat against the wall and smiled to himself. "Little bastard." He chuckled.

* * *

Strange watched over his dominion. Something was amiss. He couldn't see it, but there was a tingling sensation in the back of his mind that told him things were going wrong. As a man of perfection, Hugo Strange had a knack for disliking imperfection. Where others saw a minor flaw to be changed, he saw something to be disposed of. The most prominent matter was his inability to make his opinions sacrosanct. He could hear the thoughts of the men and women around him. Oh, they worked for him but did they truly believe as he does? If given the choice, would they side with him? How could he actually depend on these people to carry out his, in their opinion, monstrous orders on such a flimsy promise as currency? And above all those whom he doubted was him; David Clemens. The man was a time bomb just waiting to destroy everything he had worked for in an explosion of moral and ethical insight. Strange could see that the good doctor was compromised; that his relationship with Subject J had become more than professional. This was the world as Hugo Strange saw it: everyone was out to get him. "Here's that medical report you wanted, sir." Said Clemens, handing a folder to Strange.

"You remembered all the analysis notes?" asked Strange, flicking through the pages.

"Yes. And you're welcome." Clemens waited for Strange to notice he was still there. On this rare occasion, he did.

"What is it now, doctor?"

"Well, it's the strangest thing, _**professor**_." Began Clemens, folding his arms. "I was doing my rounds when I found Patient V in a rather peculiar place."

"Mmm." Responded Strange nonchalantly. "And where was that?"

"Cell J. Now I wonder what on Earth he was doing there?" pondered Clemens. "Not only outside of his own cell but in another's. Above all, _**your**_ priceless specimens'. Why would he go there and not try and escape, you reckon?" Strange considered for a moment, pretending to recall all the details he had taken down of Apone.

"Perhaps the locks are becoming rusted and insufficient for our needs. We'll need to replace them with some kind of electronic key encryption device." Strange left the conversation there, but Clemens dragged him back in.

"But why would he go to J's cell, Strange?" he questioned, almost rounding on him. "He could have escaped, so why not do that?"

"You realise who that man was before he came here, don't you?" rebutted Strange with another question. "Murderer, arsonist, dealer in several trades, rapist and...child molester. It's quite apparent to me that Mr. Apone could not resist the temptation of one last romp with our only resident minor. You see, it's all very simple to explain."

"Ok." Nodded Clemens, appearing to accept Strange's explanation. "You're quite right." Strange left the conversation again, returning to his thoughts as he flicked through the file. He had figured Clemens to be brighter; he'd bought his story easier than expected. "Oh, and I think this is yours." Clemens handed a key to Strange who pocketed it immediately before thinking.

"Thank y-" He realised what a big mistake he had just made. As Clemens made one last loathing glare at Strange, he made his exit, leaving victorious. Hugo retrieved the key from his pocket and stared down at the 'J' carved into its face. The doctor strode down the corridor of cells with an air of satisfaction about him. From day one Strange had turned his nose up at him, but now he had been beaten at his own mind game. The smugness he was experiencing blinded him to the fact that one of the cell doors was wide open in his path. That is, until a whistling tune caught his ear from the next cell down.

"Garber. Where's J? He's not in his cell." Clemens rounded urgently on the occupant of cell I who seemed content just to whistle. "Well, where is he?"

"I never could remember how that Greek song went." Distracted Garber. "I know the words but not the tune. Da-da-da a Monday, a Tuesday, a Wednesd-"

"If he's escaped again, you have to tell me so I can do something!" insisted Clemens.

"Why? What if he has escaped, are you gonna throw him back in there?" Garber stood up and pressed his face against the door. "You of all people want to see him get out, why not let him have a freaking chance and _**do it**_?"

"He was lucky last time! Don't you realise the reason why we found him in the asylum's general population? They were in lockdown at the time but now it is completely different. What if he gets up there and the psychos are free to roam? You think they'll take the high ground or can you imagine that there are a dozen Apones up there just waiting to get their hands on a young kid?" Clemens pleaded to Garber through his eyes. "I can point him in the right direction...just give me that chance." Garber rolled his eyes, unsure if the decision he was making was the right one.

"I _**think**_ he was heading to the laundry." And immediately, Clemens departed for the laundry. No one was present when he arrived, the room was untouched. He checked everywhere about the room; the cupboards, the presses, the wringer and even around the boiler. Nothing. He was about to pack it all in when he noticed the sound of rushing air. The overhanging vent had made such a racket this whole time that nobody noticed it anymore. He checked around the sealed grate; enough room between the boiler and the vent for a boy of J's size to squeeze through. It only took a very light tap on the grate itself to release it, causing it to fall with a loud clatter onto the boiler. That's how he'd done it; the screws holding the grate in place had become so rusted due to the steam that it only took a bit of force to break them. He'd crawled up and out into the asylum. Garber quickly stuck the grate back in place and turned to leave, stopped by the figure of Hugo Strange standing in his way.

"What are you doing down here, David?" he boomingly asked.

"Just checking around in case we need maintenance on anything." He explained quickly.

"Your resume stated that you were a doctor. I had no idea you also had qualifications as a...chimney sweep." Strange half-smiled.

"Checking health hazards for my patients is part of the job description. I'd hate to have one of these machines break and cut your experiment short." And with that, Clemens walked around Strange and left. He had something more important to do.

* * *

J needed to see the light again. It was running through his soul, his body yearning to feel it touch his skin once more. He had taken a left where he had first turned right and many other various directions in this maze of disgusting sights. Around every corner he heard people screaming. With every gaze he saw horrendous images of men and women who had no life left and the air smelt sterilised, masking the odours J didn't want to think about. Whatever produced such a foul stench was only created to clean up something fouler. Hearing approaching footsteps, he ducked into a room and closed the door. Shadows passed underneath the frame but J was far from secure. He had turned around to find out where he was and discovered a dozen people strapped to gurneys, all sedated. J feared had they not been, the room would have been much more ferocious. He tip toed through the room towards the door at the other end. Just as he reached half way, one of the patients screamed in terror at the boy. The rest all awoke, each of them in turn making ghastly noises of their own. Some bawled their lungs out in terror, others hollered and shouted aggressively while the odd few licked the air and whispered to the boy to come closer. J ran for his life through the far door and past several doctors. They called after him but he was gone before they had time to catch him. Alarms buzzed in his ears as he turned down corridor into corridor. Suddenly, he bumped into another doctor, this time they had a tight grip on him. "Let go of me!" he screamed. "Let go!" The man pulled him aside into a small office and turned him around.

"It's okay! It's okay, see." Calmed Clemens, patting his head. "I'm here to help you." He gave the boy a hug; he was shivering with fear. "Are you hurt? Did anyone hurt you?"

"No." choked J. "I don't wanna go back."

"Shh. Shh-shh, I know. You're not going back." Clemens looked around the room for anything to help J escape. "I need you to be very brave, very quiet and do everything I say, okay?" J nodded; he knew Clemens wouldn't do anything to hurt him. His earliest memories were of Clemens back in his old room. It was better back then, when all they did was talk to him. Here they were now; the doctor rolling a gurney down the thin halls of Arkham Asylum and the little boy hiding underneath with only a sheet between him and the rest of the world. So far so good, everything was going fine. They had just entered prisoner transfer where, hopefully, they would be able to make the tunnel that led to the Medical Block. They were stopped by one of the guards as per usual; Reggie Maclimoor.

"How ya goin', doc? Haven't seen you in a while." He mused, scribbling down on a clipboard. "Where you been hiding?"

"Nobody's healthy forever, Reg." smiled Clemens, signing his signature on the clipboard. "You're the one who's sick when I'm not around. Someone would think _**you**_ were avoiding _**me**_." Reggie laughed.

"With that bedside manner, I'll be liable to catch the flu more often!" he joked. "Go on through, mate. See ya." He waved them by and remained none the wiser.

"Good work, J." whispered Clemens out of earshot. As they rounded the corner, Reggie caught a glimpse of something unusual; an extra pair of feet was walking underneath the gurney Clemens was rolling through the far door. He grabbed his radio and held it up to his mouth.

"P.T. to the Warden." He said.

"_Go ahead."_ Came the Warden's voice.

"You know that escape alert we've got on?"

"_What about it?"_

"I just saw Doc Clemens rolling a bed down to Med Block...and someone was walking under it." The microphone went funny, as if it were shifting to another channel.

And then; _"Are you sure, Prisoner Transfer?"_ checked Hugo Strange who had taken over the call.

"Positive."

They'd been caught. Clemens saw them approaching from both ends of the hallway to freedom and now it was over. Dozens of guards swarmed around him, their guns pointed at his chest. As a doctor, if they shot him at this range, there was no way any medical attention would help. He saw them part down one side and between them strode Hugo, his whitest coat and brightest smile present with him. A moment's glance was followed with a click of the fingers and two guards overturned the gurney to reveal Clemens' demise...or was it? The doctor's hope rose as he watched Strange's smile fall into a frown of anger. "Where is he?" he barked. Clemens looked down and saw that J had disappeared. He turned back to Strange with a real bemused expression.

"To be honest," he said truthfully, "I have absolutely no idea." Strange sighed heavily in irritation. "Why? Did he escape again?"

* * *

There was a commotion amongst the prisoners. They had been let out of their cells to be allowed to walk around when they jumped at the sight of a boy running through them. They applauded as he weaved around their legs and they tried to trip up the guards chasing him. No one here knew who he was, but they were eager for a show of some kind. J didn't even stop to think about where he was going. All he knew was that there had to be somewhere else to run and that was where he was going. He pushed on through room after room, barely keeping out of reach and all that was left was one last corridor. Time slowed, his steps became heavy, breaths came and went with great difficulty and the distance seemed to grow the closer he came. A lifetime had passed when he finally burst through the door and faltered to the soft ground. The surface was brown and thick with matted patches of grass. It didn't matter how ugly it appeared, it felt wonderfully organic, beautifully real. With everything he had left, J raised his head and peered up at the sun, the familiar warmth fuelling his body once more. Now he remembered where he had seen it before.

* * *

He had been so young. There had been a woman there with him. She had brought paper and crayons and had watched him draw. At one point she had even joined in and when he saw her picture, it didn't make sense. "What's that?" he had asked. She looked down at it and then realised he hadn't seen anything like it.

"It's called the sun." she had told him. "It shines in the sky and makes us warm."

"What's the sky?" he asked as children incessantly do. She was about to answer when-

"Nurse Chaplain, how's our boy doing today?" interrupted Clemens, well aware of the things she had been telling J.

"We're drawing pictures." She said brightly. Clemens glanced over at the mirror on the wall.

"Well, let's see what you've done here." He rounded the table to J's side and picked up his paper. His eyes slowly filled with horror and disgust at the memory. Chaplain noticed this and reached out for the paper.

"What is that?" she asked but Clemens overturned the picture and held it down against the table. He took a deep, uneasy breath.

"J, what is this?" he asked the boy chewing on his crayon.

"My mommy."

* * *

He had been so relaxed with ecstasy in the sunlight that he hadn't been aware of the guards that had circled around him. Strange was there and Clemens too, in the background. Eventually, when he was ready, J stood up off his knees, swivelled on his heels and walked right back into the building, the guards keeping close to him. One day that sun would be there for him, but not today. It had taken hours and still Clemens couldn't understand why nothing had happened. Neither he nor J had been punished. All that happened afterwards was a quick physical in which Clemens inspected J for injury, sterilised him and personally returned him to his cell without a peep. All he got out of J was a smile and he wasn't even sure if it was a good sign. Here he stood before Professor Hugo Strange, or at least the back of him. He suspected that this would be the end, that he would soon find out what would happen to those who cross the _great_ Professor Strange. "Stand easy, Mr. Clemens. You're looking much too nervous." He said. "Nothing is going to happen."

"Nothing?" Clemens was astounded.

"I am not just watching our subject's actions. They are not simply the be all and end all of my experiment. Environmental factors have to be taken into account." He explained. Finally, Clemens got it.

"We're all part of it." He said. "All of us. You're testing our reactions as well as theirs."

"Why would I punish you for being a natural element?" asked Strange rhetorically, making sure that this was where that conversation ended. "How was the physical?" he asked, moving on.

"Nothing too severe, but there was something that jumped out at me. I did find several burn marks on his skin. How do you suppose he came by them?"

"That steam vent must be quite warm, he would be easily burnt. No matter, I've had it sealed tight this time with regular inspection."

"These burns bare a remarkable similarity to pacified patients when they've been shocked." Clemens said bluntly. Strange faced him now.

"I can't be responsible for the actions of every guard." He replied forcefully.

"Free will. It's just another natural element." Clemens approached the door. "You know what else a natural element is? Uncontrollable."

* * *

**Thank you very much for reading! I think there will be at least one or two more chapters left for this story which will extend further into The Joker's backstory. I've had to give up writing one of my other stories at the same time as this because I'm just so engrossed in this story!**

**I would like to thank Keywee for her reviews and inspiration and most definitely recommend her own origin story for The Joker, 'The House That Jack Built'. It is an engrossing take on the Clown Prince of Crime and a cracking read! You'll be hooked, trust me.**

**Once again, thank you and please review or PM! Inspirational stuff, it keeps me writing.**


	4. Conception

Joker

Story One: The Start of a Joke

Chapter Four: Conception

**Greetings ladies and maniacs! Thank you for making it this far, for lack of a better word, sane. Chapters Four and Five are in themselves two-parters in which everything changes and the story moves on dramatically. There will be love, loss, deception, defeat, escape, capture and most of that which I have listed is a lie. I'm not telling you anything, you'll just have to find out for yourselves. Please enjoy!**

**Side Note: Thank you to Keywee for your continuous and complimentary reviews and insight into your own story. I hope you enjoy (and anyone else reading this, go read Keywee's story).**

* * *

"I don't want to do this."

"It'll only take a moment."

"We did this last time, and the dream hasn't changed. Why do you want to hear something I've told you a hundred times over? It's boring, even for me."

"While you may not realise it, details appear or change that fascinate me. Besides, I thought you were becoming interested with the inner workings of the mind. Are you not as interested as I?"

"I'd just rather you get rid of them and not just 'think' all the time. It gets annoying."

"To remove, I have to treat. And to treat, I must have a diagnosis. And to diagnose, I must study and study involves thinking. Just try again. Concentrate. Start from the beginning and omit nothing."

"Fine. I'm sitting in my room. It's dark but there's light coming from the walls. It's like they're reflecting light...but where from? I don't know, it's a little fuzzy."

"You're doing quite well. Continue."

"So, I see that there's no door but I'm not worried 'cos I figure that's always been like that in the dream."

"Concentrate on the reflections, what do you see?"

"When I try to see myself, I can't. They're blurred. I can see myself, but I'm different. I'm more...bent. When I try and lean in to get a closer look, the wall ripples like water and then cracks. These faces burst out of them. They're..."

"Go on."

"...they're awful. They each have an expression; fear, unhappiness, anger. Before I can see them all staring down at me, they all start moaning in their emotions. They drag the walls in closer, I can't breathe. I'm trying to stay away but there is less and less room to move. When there's nowhere to go and the noise is too much, the floor shatters...and I fall. I'm almost glad, but then I see the faces following me. They circle me, falling faster than I am. The wind is hurting my face. When the mirror pieces reach me, I catch a glimpse of myself in the reflection. I'm..."

"What do you see, J?" asked Strange. He was practically on the edge of his seat.

"I'm...laughing. Happy. But I look like them...except I'm happy." J sighed, glad he reached the end of the events of his dream. "Then I wake up and that's it."

"You're sure?" Strange noted this down on his clipboard. "Hmm. This is fascinating. Do you realise how much your dream has changed since you were a much younger boy? Half a decade ago, you showed signs of disturbed dreaming states based on events you lived through dating back to the crib. It was only a couple of years ago that these non-fictional nightmares contorted into fantasy until now, we have a completely new mental reverie. All with one remaining constant; the clowns. Coulrophobia is a pretty common fear in society, but it afflicts you differently than most others. Where people see it as a form of anxiety, horror and terror...you seem to rejoice in it. The strength of whatever drives these dreams to the forefront of your mind is what keeps you alive every day." He became aware that he was thinking out loud. He didn't mind J knowing any of this, but it was having an effect on his experiment. Since he had felt comfortable to do so, Strange had noticed that J had picked up on certain psychological terminology and methods that he had now become quite familiar with. At first, he had been apprehensive about how much J learned directly from him as an outsider, contaminating his subject with alien knowledge but recently, Strange had warmed to the idea to find out what J could learn. Perhaps he could entice him into helping Strange with his experiment. "What do you know of the mind?" Strange asked, trying to openly gauge J's interest. "I can tell you that the mind is not as complex as everyone thinks. We're quite simple to read, human beings. It just takes a unique mind to understand. What can you tell me about me?" he smiled. "Please speak up, I'm interested in your opinion." J glanced at the two guards standing either side him. In the five years since these interviews had begun, he had tried with great difficulty to not aggravate his captor. Could he contain the opportunity to openly lash out now?

The answer was no.

"You say you are a professor." He said carefully. Strange nodded.

"I am a professor. Professor Hugo Stran-"

"No. You say 'professor', but you're not." Hugo leant slowly back into his chair. "You don't know people; you just make stories about us and say that it's true. The only thing you have is a voice that too many people listen to. It's a shame that people who talk listen to a man who can't hear."

* * *

It had probably been worth it, at least in J's mind. Clemens however thought otherwise. After treating the severe burns the boy had suffered being roughly treated by his personal guard, probably at the request of Hugo himself, Clemens had done some digging into what the cause was. He had to admit, he almost smiled when he heard that J had openly insulted that egomaniacal quack but that was as much pleasure as he got from it. For the last five years since aiding in J's escape attempt, Strange had been dividing the pair for obvious and some not so obvious reasons. Wherever he could, Clemens would still lend assistance to J and Garber. Together, the two had staged dozens of escape attempts over the last five years with J being the main instigator. Strange hadn't shown any signs of anger towards the boy for this and neither had much happened. Sure, there was some kind of test or experiment Professor Strange liked to start but he would move on. There couldn't be much left, so by default, all this could come to an end in a matter of days. What would happen to J then? "Retired." Stated Strange simply. He had used that terminology many times before and had on all of those occasions left Clemens to carry out the order.

"Just like that?" Clemens couldn't accept it. Not this time.

"Yes. He knows too much, just being alive jeopardises my career as well as yours. I expect you to take care of that business without question when we come to it."

"Wrong. I always knew you were a cold-hearted son of a bitch, Strange, but this takes the cake." Hugo seemed almost amused as Clemens continued on. "It may not have occurred to you with that eagle-eye mind of yours, but perhaps I regret many of the things I've had to do for you. Maybe with all this time I've had to think about what I have done, I've sorted out priorities. Quite frankly, I would rather be out of a career than kill that boy. Do you understand me?"

"Indubitably." Replied Strange simply. "I think it's time for another experiment for our dear Subject J." he said, turning on his feet. "You will not be required...for the test, that is." Clemens took this as his cue to leave. Whatever Strange was planning, he had to think of something to keep J safe. That night, he was not the only one having trouble sleeping. The occupant of cell I had been tossing and turning for some time now. At an estimate, he guessed that by now he was somewhere in his early forties which made him the oldest inmate in Strange's lot. After Kline bit the bullet a few months back, that's when Garber really started to feel old. These walls, these people, the constant peering over your shoulder to make sure there wasn't a knife in your back was taking its toll. Being on edge for years on end would drive any man mad, but it had been up to him to look after J for the last five years. With Clemens being phased out of his life, the pressure was all coming down on this poor man. On the last few escapes, Garber had even refused to follow J. He said that it would slow him down, but perhaps there was another reason. He had grown to feel safe behind these walls and if the outside world was anything the way he remembered, it probably wasn't so crazy to end up in a place like this. All these thoughts running through his mind made for a horrible night's sleep. When he woke up, it startled him to see the two round-rimmed spectacles peering through the slot of his cell door. He hoped it was a nightmare, because then he would wake up and everything would be fine. As it dawned on him that it was not, the cell suddenly and coldly became a much less safer place in his mind. This was what he had been dreading all this time, what he knew would happen from the moment he befriended that little boy all those years ago. Like his age, it had snuck up on him and here it was, rearing its ugly head and waiting to strike. It would be soon and it would be quick. The eyes hiding behind those glasses disappeared and the slot closed. It had been a warning of what was to come. Now at least, Garber didn't feel much like sleeping. He would have all the time to do so soon enough.

* * *

J watched as the food went untouched. Garber had been unusually quiet today and had barely looked anyone in the eye. Olufsen and Hatzi had noticed it too. "Garber, if you ain't gonna eat that, then share it 'round." Said Hatzi. Instead of some kind of insulting retort, Garber just slid his food on down the table. "What are you doing?" asked an incredulous Hatzi. "I was joking with ya. I don't want this stinkin' food. What's the matter with you?"

"You haven't said a word all day." Enforced Olufsen. "What's eatin' ya?" Garber just sighed. There was nothing they could do and to be honest, after all these years, he had nothing to say to them.

"M'kay." Nodded Hatzi. "I get it. If you don't wanna talk, we'll make ourselves scarce. C'mon Ol'."

"Hatzi, what are ya doing?"

"I ain't sittin' here. We're not wanted." Hatzi rose from his seat and walked away. For a moment, Olufsen hesitated, just watching for Garber to refuse.

"Don't you crack." He said before following Hatzi. J also rose from his seat, but Garber's hand clamped itself around his arm and pulled him back down into the chair.

"You probably don't know what's going on. You might never understand why I never told you anything. I just want you to know that I tried my best...and I hope you get out. Get out before you end up like me." His breaths were becoming shallow.

"Wha-"

"Don't interrupt me!" Garber slammed his hands down on the table, knocking over the bowl of gruel. "Not now, I don't want you to say anything. I want to get this out before it's too late. I was frightened when I saw you sitting here on the day we met. I felt something that I haven't felt since my children were with me. I thought you were the most important thing in my life and that I would do anything to protect you. The reason why I was scared was because I failed the first time. My children and my wife, I couldn't protect them...from me. I want you to know how much I have tried to stand by you and how proud I am that you are the person you are today." He reached out and rubbed J's cheek. "I love you." Garber held back the tears. J was confused and scared. Why was he acting like this? Why now? Before he could ask, Garber sat back in his seat and looked around, a load seemingly lifted from his mind. "I'm gonna go get some more." He mumbled, picking up his now empty bowl and walking to the line.

The line was still quite long; many inmates were going back for seconds. It was unusually kind of Strange to allow them to have second helpings and there were rumours surrounding it. Some of them concerned the poisoning of the gruel, but that wasn't true. Only one amongst them knew why their breakfast regime had been extended to include another helping, and this man hadn't even eaten. He approached the cutlery table and produced from underneath the spoon tray a small, sharp knife. Exactly where he had been told it was. Concealing it underneath his bowl, the man scoured the line to find his intended target.

Garber had been given his seconds, or in this case, his firsts. He moved along to the cutlery table and retrieved a clean spoon for himself. That's when he felt the heavy breathing on his neck. He turned around and let out a sigh. "Okay." He said.

"I would be better if you didn't struggle." Said Apone as he put his bowl down on the counter, the knife visible in his right hand.

"I don't intend to. Just make it quick."

"Yes sir." And with one swift movement, the blade was no longer seen. It took seconds to the rest of the world. Only three people saw differently. In the end, Garber fell to the floor, almost peacefully. Apone turned around to face the stares, but saw only one. J had silently walked up to the scene and was silently crying with rage. "What?" spat Apone. The boy was too quick. In a flash, he dived atop the goliath and dug out the giant's eye with a spoon. Even the surrounding prisoners had great difficulty tearing the two apart, and in the confusion, the round optic was destroyed underfoot. One man watched and smiled, almost laughing.

"That boy has a wicked sense of humour." He said cheerfully.

"How do you surmise that?" asked a disgusted Clemens, still deep in shock by what he just witnessed.

"An eye for an I. It was like he'd had it in mind for years." Strange walked away from the window, replaying everything over in his mind. "Have security retrieve the knife. I want to know exactly how he got it."

"Of course you do." Scowled Clemens through gritted teeth. Selfish thoughts began flashing through his mind; how much longer until he went the same way? How was he still alive now after everything he'd done? Is this how it would all end? Now he knew that there could be no lengths great enough for him to stop this experiment. If he couldn't get help from the authorities, or from the staff then it was time he found assistance from experts in the asylum itself.

* * *

He had never seen Garber so calm. You might mistake it for sleep if all the colour hadn't drained from his face. The memory was still fresh in his mind, but J felt it slipping away as though waking up from a dream. He had to hold onto it to make sure it didn't leave even though it was so painful. J just stared down at the man who came close to being something of a father; his rounded face, the short greying hair, the lines across his face that betrayed his youth, the strong pair of comforting hands that would no longer be there to hold. The smile that would no longer show. Just as the memory was hard to remember, it was difficult to grasp that this person and everything about him would no longer exist. There was nothing in the world that J could do to bring it all back. Maybe not, but he could make things right. You could almost hear the words 'poetic justice' issue from J's lips as he felt the handle of Apone's blade resting in the tray beside Garber's slab. The long walk to the murderer's bed and the satisfaction of watching his face contort from pain to fear as he saw what fate, and indeed karma, had in store. One hand clasped over his empty eye socket and the other handcuffed to the rail, Apone could not escape this. It felt fantastic, all of it. The horror, the struggling, the pleasure of holding such power in the palm of one's hand. Shocking that such a small implement could cause so much pain and make a feared man collapse into a whimpering child. It kills a human before it is used, that is the 'miracle' of the knife. It tears down the defences of anyone and bears the true persona of the individual for the whole world to see. It was almost disheartening to see Apone pull himself together, whatever flimsy minute amount he could. "Go ahead. Do it." He shuddered. J leant right up to his ear, Garber's words blasting through his skull. Even Apone thought he could hear them.

"Why on Earth would I send you to the same place _**he**_ is?" asked J condescendingly. "He's only just gotten rid of you." He pulled himself away from this horrible excuse for carbon. "You're not done suffering yet." He said, tossing the knife just out of Apone's reach. As J returned to his stool by Garber, he could hear Apone's grunts as he tried to reach for his only salvation. It overjoyed J so much to know that that man was in so much pain and anguish that he just had to smile. For a moment, he could swear that Garber's mouth twitched. Perhaps, wherever he was, he was enjoying this as much as J was. It all lasted until he was dragged away from his dear departed friend and escorted into the interview room. Strange was already there waiting for him, that intense stare cutting through the air, constantly surveying, constantly monitoring and always on J.

"Leave us." He ordered the guards and they naturally obliged. The two just sat in silence for a while. It was about the most intriguing interaction between the two, speaking volumes in a cold, hard silence. "So, how do you feel?"

"Fine."

"Hmm. Is that true?"

"No."

"I thought not."

"How do you expect me to feel?"

"That's the point of all this, J. I don't expect you to feel anything. I watch. I observe. I see your feelings when you experience them."

"I know you did this."

"I would think less of you if you didn't. How does that make you feel about me?"

"Angry."

"Good."

"Furious."

"Would you say you wanted to kill me?"

"No. Not at first." This just made Strange all the more happy. J would give anything to tear that smile from his face.

"I would like to venture a guess as to how you truly feel." Said Strange as he heaved a pile of files out from under the desk. "Thirty-seven escape attempts overall, none of them successful. The most promising one being your second. You've spent the last five years trying to get back outside and failed. Every time we counter the methods you have used, you find a way to get around them. We close up a ventilation system, you find the sewerage pipes. You pick locks, we replace them with electronic key code devices and yet you still manage to get through them. Up until several months ago, it was always you two trying to escape and then one day, Garber wasn't there. He was slowing down your escape and now that won't happen anymore."

"I would've taken him along the whole way."

"I think you're lying. I think deep down you're happy he's no longer with us. With you."

"No."

"Can't slow you down if he's dead, can he? He doesn't need to escape anymore. I reckon you're happy that the old man finally croaked. If I'd given you a few more weeks and kept Apone on a leash, you probably would've done the job for me-" J leapt over the table and went for Strange's throat. Hugo overpowered him, catching him mid-flight and throwing him into a wall. Dazed, J couldn't even grab Strange's hand as he pulled J by the hair, dragging him across the floor and slamming him down on top of the table. "You really do want to kill me...but not because you're angry I killed him. You're annoyed that you didn't get the chance yourself." J tried to reach out for Strange again, but he held down the boy's hands with ease. "Don't bother lashing out at me. It's no use. I'm much stronger than you."

"What do you want me to do then?" asked J, not really caring what the answer was. That is, until he heard it.

"Run. Do what you couldn't do with Garber. Your time is coming, J...and you're going to have to do it alone." He pushed J off the table and strode to the door. "Escort the subject back to his cell. Gently." He ordered to the guards outside.

* * *

All his research had payed off. Under the guise of checking up on patient health, it had been quite easy for Clemens to gain access to all the prisoner files without rousing suspicion. Churning through everyone he could find with any likelihood of escape had been with its challenges. This person had to be just right and could not be told exactly what their true purpose was. Clemens was here to talk to this man now. He wasn't ideal, but the best there was. I mean, who exactly would be ideal in this place? At least it seemed this man had the initiative, the insight and resources to pull it off. When the guards sat him down opposite Clemens, he couldn't help thinking that he looked like some sort of mythical figure, as if plucked out of history. "Speak." He said, irritated and with a hint of egotism.

"You are Terry Gene Kase?" checked Clemens.

"Mmm."

"At least, that's the name you were incarcerated under. You were captured trying to ignite the city's gas supply, Mr. al Ghul. You must have a lot of power to cut down a death sentence into an insanity plea."

"My followers and I feel it is time to cleanse this city of its criminal roots before they spread and choke out the fresh waters of civilised society."

"Right. Your 'League of...Assistance'." quoted Clemens.

"That's Assassins, doctor." Corrected Ra's.

"So it is." Accepted Clemens. "Someone has some bad handwriting."

"As much as you are enjoying this conversation, I would rather not waste my time discussing these details with you, considering you already have them in hand...even if they are somewhat untidy." Ra's prepared himself to leave.

"Are you planning a breakout?" asked Clemens openly. "I'm not here to stop you if you are. I'm here to help you."

"What makes you think I need your help?" questioned Ra's with much contempt. He saw this man as an insect; a fly caught in the spider's web.

"The cops captured a lot of your boys when you tried to blow up the city." He began with great subtlety. "I'm not sure of the numbers of your little club, but I'm sure it took a dent in manpower. Am I right? A breakout involving only you, that's feasible, but a breakout involving all of your guys? That ain't happening."

"What is your point, doctor?" Clemens leant in closer.

"I know how you can get them all out at once." He whispered. "Where to go, what you need to do. I can tell you...and I ask nothing of you in return."

"I am suspicious; a man of your position aiding a breakout with no incentive." Smirked Ra's, folding his arms. "Why should I trust you?"

"Let's just say that by doing this, you are already doing me a favour." He stood up and stretched out his arm for a handshake. "Do we have a deal?" Ra's stared up at Clemens for a moment, testing his gaze and judging his character.

"We have an agreement." He agreed and stood up himself. He knocked on the door and the guards waiting outside escorted him back to his cell. Clemens sighed in relief; it was done. He couldn't help feeling that he had made a deal with the devil that he may regret. When in Hell, he guessed. At least now there was a chance. A chance that J could finally be free and this experiment finally brought to an end. It would cost much, but it was worth it...he hoped.

* * *

**Thank you for reading Chapter 4! Sorry for my tardiness, but I have only just recovered from a cold that threw me completely off my schedule. If you have any questions about this week's new addition, then please send me a Private Message or ask in the Review.**

**This one has been the most difficult to write, mainly for timing purposes, but also the layout of the story's end over the final two chapters. As you can tell, this chapter was the setup for the next, so I hope you are waiting in anticipation for the follow up; Chapter Five: Birth. Thanks once again for reading!**


	5. Birth

Joker

Story One: The Start of a Joke

Chapter Five: Birth

**Hidey-ho readers! This is Chapter Five of The Start of a Joke; 'Birth'. This chapter will take you on one final romp through the familiar confines of Arkham Asylum and break out into the world that is Gotham City. Will everyone make it? You'll just have to read the final chapter of this story.**

**I must pre-warn you all that after this chapter is complete, I am beginning a hiatus to work on my novel. When I find myself needing a break from it, I will gladly start writing more FanFiction but will stockpile the chapters and release them weekly without the pressure of constantly churning them out. But more of that later. Now, you are about to read the beginning of the end...  
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* * *

Another day, another brawl. It was the constant routine that repeated itself with the rise of the sun. Several members of two different gangs entered a dispute and it was the medic's job to treat the scratches, the bruises and the broken bones that ensued. At least all the cleaning staff had to worry about was the blood. Even they didn't need to carry away dead bodies. Luckily, today was not such a grim day for one of the unfortunates idiotic enough to get into the scuffle. Despite this, something was very unusual. At least, it would have been had anyone taken the time to notice. One of the men amongst those injured was not part of either gang. He was a complete unknown, a mysterious appearance. This man was here to collect something important for his own coalition, and the carrier of this information was the doctor treating him. "Took a nasty knock to the head, I see." Said Clemens, attempting false small talk.

"I'll live." Replied the assassin in his dark, crackling voice.

"So what do I call you?" asked Clemens in a slightly lower tone.

"Carter." Answered the man, making sure none of the other people in the room could overhear them. Clemens didn't believe that was his real name, but it would do. The man, 'Carter', continued; "Do you have it here?"

"Yes."

"Then make the drop."

"No." Clemens too was afraid of getting caught this early on in the act. At least after this, it was all up to them to pull off the plan. He had as much faith in it as far as he was involved. "I'll sling your arm. Make like it hurts." He straightened himself, allowing himself to be seen as doing nothing out of the ordinary. "Now, does it hurt when I do this?" He returned to his normal register and began squeezing portions down Carter's arm. As instructed, Carter pulled off quite a convincing pained look. "Right there, hmm? Not broken. I'll just pop that in a sling and then you're done." As Clemens tied the sling off on Carter's shoulder, he slipped a small piece of paper into the arm and out of sight. Easy as pie. "There, that should do the trick. Off you go." Carter nodded in thanks to Clemens and left Medical. He was careful to not appear suspicious as he was led back to Intensive Treatment. As he passed by a cell marked 'Kase, T.G.', he made his move. With swift reflexes, he took down his two escorts. The guards quickly reacted to his hostile actions and tried to subdue Carter to no avail. He knew how to remove himself from every hold. But it was not his intent to escape. When the time was right, he carefully positioned himself in front of the cell door and, as planned, was knocked in the back of the head by one of the guards. As he fell, he allowed the folded paper slip from his sleeve, slide across the floor and under the gap between the door and the floor. The last thing Carter saw before he was dragged away was a hand that swept it up and out of sight. Ra's al Ghul listened as his man was taken away to be locked into solitary confinement. Before the escape had even begun, they were one head down. That's how much this information cost them. 'It had better be good.' He thought as he unfolded the paper. Scrawled on the paper were directions and a hand-drawn map. He followed it along until he came across the objective. As it turned out, it had been worth the man after all; the directions would lead them to the figurative heart of the asylum. If they struck there, it would shut the facility down for good, using the power that the asylum so fool-heartedly relied on against them. Without it, they would be blind, deaf and powerless to stop any escape attempt. It would all happen, as the date in the upper hand corner predicted, late afternoon...tomorrow. Until that time, Ra's and his followers would need to plan for maximum effect.

* * *

"If you care about what happens to J, you need to do exactly as I say." The words were whispered into their ears. Olufsen and Hatzi tried to turn, but both were deterred; "Don't look." Warned the voice once again. They both looked around the Mess Hall, there were many more guards on the upper level than usual, all glancing in their direction more than any other.

"Doc Clemens? That you?" guessed Hatzi.

"Yes. Did you hear me?"

"Eh, that depends on what you want us to do."

"Hatzi!" Whispered Olufsen defiantly.

"I ain't stickin' me neck out for some kid." Argued back Hatzi.

"We're not doing it for the kid; we're doing it for Garber. And Kline." Hatzi simmered over this for a moment before settling back in his seat in compliance. "Right, what did ya want us to do, doc? And where is J?"

"Strange has him, one of his whole-day-chit-chat sessions." Clemens checked to see if anyone had grown suspicious yet. "There's gonna be a breakout tonight."

"Who's escapin'?" asked Hatzi.

"_**Everyone**_." Answered Clemens. "But to pull it off, I need a cardkey; a top level one."

"You don't mean...?" said Olufsen, worried and wide eyed.

"I do. Strange keeps it in his office in a desk. I have a mould of the key to his office door for you."

"Where is it?"

"In your bowl. Try not to eat it." Said Clemens. "I'll take you out of your cells for a physical inspection then let you guys slip away to break into his office. That cardkey is essential for the breakout. You two cannot fail."

"Why don't you get it yourself if you have all this stuff ready?" asked Hatzi.

"Because I need to drop the cardkey off to...the instigators." Explained Clemens. "If I'm even suspected of doing anything, Strange will lock me away and I can't let J out of his room, steal the cardkey and make the escape happen from a cell. Understood?" Hatzi and Olufsen nodded slightly. "Good. See you in an hour. Enjoy your lunch, gentlemen." As Clemens walked away, he felt a sickening churn in his stomach. There were so many questions in his head and all the worries in the world stacked on his shoulders. If this didn't work, if all of it didn't stop tonight, then what would happen? He knew that J would probably die, that this horrible experiment would continue into new and more diabolical forms but what of the man behind the scenes? What would become of Professor Hugo Strange? His power hunger was growing every day. It is so insatiable. He was becoming so confident in his own psychological theories being correct that he enforced all of the staff to call them 'diagnoses' and berated any who insisted otherwise. Warden Arkham had all but lost control over his asylum entirely to Strange who had some kind of a hold over his mind. If he was allowed to have some kind of a standing in society, then Gotham would have someone worse than any criminal to contend with. These are the reasons that drive a man like David Clemens to go against the hierarchy. These are the reasons that made him change his view of the world. These are the reason why he led Hatzi and Olufsen from their cells within safe walking distance of Hugo Strange's office. It took some work, but the key finally managed to click into place and unlock the door. The office was quite dark, even with the light on. There were no bright colours inside, no pictures or gimmicky nick-knacks. This was a serious house built on a serious Earth.

"Damn, can't this guy just be a freak in person?" joked Olufsen.

"Would ya shut up." Complained Hatzi. "Feels like he's in here watching us. Look around an' see what you can find. I'll check the desk." Hatzi began pulling out drawers and looking inside. There was nothing so far, nothing at all. Most of the drawers were empty. Olufsen looked around the shelves, checking all of the qualifications he had. Most of them were probably faked; there was no way he could have done most of these in such a short time. The first proper mirror he'd seen in a while, didn't waste any time in checking his reflection. He opened a nearby wardrobe and out toppled a woman. He jumped back in shock and stifled his cry of surprise; even Hatzi had to control himself. Luckily, the shock passed into relief when they realised it was a mannequin. The head had rolled away from the body which was only barely scantily clad.

"Looks like Hugo's got a bit of a sweet tooth." Chuckled Olufsen.

"Shut up, ya idiot." Laughed Hatzi. "Stuff her in and keep it down."

"That's what she said." Olufsen joked, smiling as he crammed the doll back into the wardrobe. "Professor Strange has human impulses after all."

"That weren't a sex doll, Ol'. He probably doesn't even know what sex is."

"Thanks, eagle eye." Mocked Olufsen. Hatzi opened one of the smaller top drawers and found the cardkey.

"Got it." He sighed in relief, picking up the card. He then noticed the book underneath it. It was the only other book in the desk, let alone the office, that they had come across. He picked it up, neither the face nor spine were labelled. Hatzi opened it up and flicked through the pages. "Olufsen, take a look at this." He said. Olufsen walked over and looked in the book. "What do you make of this?"

"Patient notes." He said. "You've seen him, he writes in this all the time."

"Yeah, but do you see us anywhere in this?" Olufsen watched the pages as Hatzi slowly turned them over one by one. There was no mention of them or Garber or Kline. There was only one name that stood out amongst the ineligible scribbles of hurried writing; J. Over and over the name was repeated, with ever page the words became more jagged and agitated, some pages only ever had that one letter etched into the paper. It was clear that this was more than an obsession.

"Jesus." Gasped a breathless Hatzi. "This whole experiment...is all for him. It was always for him." A noise outside startled them; footsteps approaching the room. Hatzi and Olufsen backed against the wall by the door and watched two shadows pass the door. Relieved, but still shaken, they both knew it was time to leave.

"Better put that back." Recommended Olufsen, pointing to Strange's book. Hatzi placed it back in the drawer exactly as he had found it and both of them left the room. Only they and the hidden camera behind the mirror would know about their mission.

* * *

Another day, another brawl. This was the first time Ra's al Ghul had graced the recreation yard with his presence, which was already quite suspicious. The guards knew something was up and had a watchful eye on the man. Ra's was here to meet up with some of his men who were being kept in another part of the asylum. Before he had even joined them, the first amongst the group turned and glared at him with vengeful eyes. "You said that we would succeed. That the demon would protect our noble crusade." Spat the follower.

"We would not have been brought here if it were not to serve a higher purpose." Ra's predicted, staring down his ex-follower. "You must understand, Anriel. This is all part of what must be sacrificed in order to succeed."

"No. You are wrong!" The prisoners were beginning to notice the commotion, the guards too. Those that stood around them backed away to what they assumed would be a safe distance. "The League is folly and you are not fit to lead!" Without warning, Anriel pulled a makeshift wooden knife from his pocket and with a sudden thrust, the blade pierced Ra's skin, digging deep into him, blood leaking from the wound. "You are overthrown, Ra's al Ghul." Anriel released the knife and allowed Ra's to see it. He tried to pull it out, but every time the pain grew until finally, he died. As though the order were given, Ra's followers attacked the former, resulting in yet another scuffle. The guards were quick to pull the men back and the medics were ready to carry Ra's away, placing him on a gurney and rushing him to the Medical Block where Clemens awaited him. When he saw who it was, his heart fell.

"My God." He said in shock. The one man his hopes rested was dead. When there was nothing he could do and everyone had left, he sat in silence by the body, wishing that something would go right.

Anriel's crew were being taken to Extreme Isolation. After his actions, all of their recreation privileges had been revoked. Nothing to do now but escape. The guards directed them to the new scanning tunnel and proceeded to carry out a weapons scan. This was it! Anriel and his crew incapacitated their respective guards who had assumed a handcuffed assassin was a harmless assassin. Using a security card, Anriel freed his men to create a diversion. Anriel and his closest follower, Illin, made their way back through the asylum, causing as much havoc as possible on their way to their objective. The alarms blared as they did too often for an asylum. It disturbed Jeremiah from his afternoon nap, waking him up in a maddened state. "What the hell?" he cursed when he realised what was happening. He quickly rang the man downstairs. "Strange, the alarms are on. Is this your fault again?"

"_This is not a problem on my end." _Assured Strange. _"Perhaps you should be keeping a closer watch on your flock instead of sleeping on the job."_

"Can't you go five minutes without insulting people?" Jeremiah didn't even wait for a response. He slammed down the phone and tried the security station. "What's all the fuss about?"

"_It's Harry Barnes, sir!" _came a young, exhausted voice from the other end. _"Some of those ninjas that were brought in...have escaped. Some of the men are dead, one of the prisoners too."_

"Where did these ninja's go?"

"_They're all over the place!"_

"Can you be a little more specific?"

"_I'm afraid not-" _The phone line disconnected.

"Barnes? Barnes? God damn it, this place is falling apart!" He threw the receiver across the room and grabbed the P.A. "Attention. Attention. This is Warden Arkham. We have escaped...ninjas in the asylum. Use extreme force and extreme caution when apprehending them. If you can't capture them, kill them!"

"_Come in, Warden." _Said a muffled voice in his drawer. Jeremiah opened it and pulled out a radio. The voice was a lot gruffer than Barnes'. _"Can you hear me?"_

"I'm here. What is it? Where's Barnes?"

"_Barnes is dead, sir. This is __Reggie Maclimoor.__ We've caught three of the escaped prisoners and chased two towards Prisoner Transfer."_

"Listen, Reggie, I will give you a goddamn promotion if you get these guys. Make it quick!"

"_You got it, boss."_ And then, everything was silent. Jeremiah leant back in his seat.

"I don't get paid enough for this." He sighed and went back to sleep, confident everything would be handled with in due course.

Reggie had a lot on his plate. The Warden didn't say it, but he knew that if he failed then his job would be down the crapper. He and a group of guards were chasing after Anriel and Illin down the tunnels of Prisoner Transfer. They had to be caught before they reached the elevator shaft. "C'mon!" he shouted back for everyone else to pick up the pace. The assassins had the edge over them; being more physically fit and carrying less equipment. They had unlocked their handcuffs and knew where they needed to go. Unfortunately for Reggie, they reached the elevators before being caught. There were already doctors in the elevator, watching as the prisoners were charging towards them. "Don't let them on!" ordered Reggie. The doctors quickly closed the outer and inner doors of the lift and locked them shut, but this was no good. Climbing on top of the lift as it began to ascend, Anriel and Illin dove in through the emergency hatch.

"Stop or I'll shoot!" shouted one of the newer guards. He didn't even give them time to surrender before he let off a few shots, almost skimming Illin as he disappeared inside the cart. Reggie pushed the rookie's gun away from the lift.

"You out of your mind?" he shouted. "You coulda killed those doctors!"

"What do we do now, sir?" asked Jones, peering up the shaft as the elevator ascended.

"We follow 'em." Said Reggie, running for the second lift. He and his squad ran inside and began their own ascent. Reggie then pulled out his radio. "Turner Squad. I need you to set up 'road block' at east lift on your level. Hostiles are inbound. Use caution."

"_Roger that, Moor Squad. Road block is in place." _Replied Turner. _"We'll have your hostiles in custody when you get here. Over."_

"Got 'em." Smiled Reggie. On the second floor, high above, Turner Squad was in wait for the assassins to arrive. The elevator came grinding to a halt before the men, their weapons raised and trained on the cart. Turner unlocked the doors and they slowly entered the lift.

"I'm gonna need medical assistance over here." He said as he saw the unconscious doctors in the corner. They all rushed inside to help carry them out, and that's when Anriel and Illin struck; Anriel closed the doors of the lift, destroying the lock while Illin cut the cable for the elevator. It plummeted down past the second and was only stopped by the emergency brakes. Moor Squad in the second lift watched the event in total horror.

"Turner Squad, report in." Reggie said through the radio. No reply. "Shit! Go down!"

"What about the assa-" began Jones.

"I said go down!" ordered Reggie directly. Meanwhile, on the second floor, Anriel and Illin stood triumphantly as they watched the second elevator begin its long crawl down the shaft. They smiled and walked to the door which promptly opened to the sight of two dozen guards, all with their weapons trained on the two men. With slight hesitation, they raised their hands in surrender. One of the guards noticed the bandage on Illin's left wrist; it had been cut on purpose and then treated. It dawned on him that the only reason anyone would do that was to syphon off blood, just before the lights went out.

* * *

**One Hour Earlier...**

All hope had been lost. Who was their now to instigate the escape and free J? No one. Clemens just couldn't believe it. How had things gone so wrong? He looked down at Ra's dead body. "Well, at least you tried." He said. "It's all over now."

"It has only begun, Doctor." Ra's commented to the surprise of Clemens. "You made a convincing act."

"But...your wound...the spleen was punctured by the knife. It was too late." Stuttered an amazed Clemens. He watched as Ra's removed his hand from the knife, allowing it to fall away from him harmlessly. It was a fake with a retractable head but with real blood inside.

"Bait to create our distraction." Explained Ra's. "My men should be taking care of that right now. Do you have the cardkey?"

"Yes." Clemens pulled Strange's cardkey from his pocket and handed it to Ra's. "Don't lose that." He warned. "You'll need it to get into the generator room. If you try and break in, that room is sealed off; impenetrable. Remember to switch off both generators before you destroy them."

"Committed to memory, Doctor. Where is the quickest way there?"

"The ventilation system. I'll take you." Clemens proceeded from there to lead Ra's to the nearest vent and left him to complete the mission. Ra's crawled through what seemed like miles of vents but it was child's play to a man of his background. He had ventured through caves that had less leg room than this place. Finally, at long last after following the directions on the crude map Clemens had made, Ra's reached the generator room. He entered with the help of Strange's stolen cardkey and destroyed the generators, cutting off power to the entire asylum; turning off lights, rendering security systems useless and shut down the electrical locks to every cell in the facility.

J had been sitting quietly in his cell, contemplating over his life. Or at least, the one he had been denied. He wasn't stupid; he knew that there was a world outside where people lived normal lives. This isn't something you have to be taught to understand. It's instinctive. It's natural. But at this point in time, he really thought that no matter how hard he tried to reach his goal that it would always be kept out of his reach. Besides, there was no point in trying to escape right this very second. Not with his own personal guard escorting him throughout the facility from now on. It truly seemed like this would be the end. Now, being in a darkened cell, J didn't realise that the power was out because the lights turned off. He realised it by the click the electric lock made without hearing the beep beforehand when the card was being swiped. He waited a few moments to see if his guard, waiting just outside, had noticed that the door had unlocked. He hadn't. Well, J would be damned if he let this opportunity pass him by. He rammed the door, swinging it into the guard, knocking him into a daze. While he was dizzy, J jumped on his back. The guard grabbed his cattle prod, desperately trying to zap J into paralysis, but he kept out of reach. They stumbled back into the cell, the guard knocking into the walls then trying to bash J into them. J bit the guard's neck and punched him continuously in the face as brutally as he could. Slowly, the guard crumpled to the floor and it took a few moments before J stopped punching him, realising that he was no longer fighting back. This was it. He was finally free. He could feel that fresh air on him, the wind whipping his hair back even now. Even the other prisoners had noticed their no longer locked cell doors and were beginning their escape. J joined the horde, knocking down anyone who stood in their way. Clemens was running with the crowd too but stopped at J's cell. He was too late; J was already gone. Before he could make sure the boy was in safe hands or had at least not been recaptured by Strange, one of the prisoners pushed him into the cell and slammed the door shut, triggering the lock to reset itself. Meanwhile, J was being herded along with the rest of his fellow prisoners. Someone grabbed his shoulder, and another grabbed his hand. "C'mon, kid. We'll get ya out." Said Hatzi to J's relief. They helped him up the stairs and into the asylum which in itself was also in chaos. At least, a different kind to the usual chaos. Everywhere they looked, crazies were running free, fighting guards or cowering in their cells. No one knew where they were going. To their right, a line of riot guards were pushing back the inmates, tazering them into submission and then moving on. They were almost upon them. Hatzi picked up a nearby pipe and began walking towards the line. "Keep J safe!" he called back to Olufsen who quickly ushered J in the direction many of the inmates were fleeing.

"Come on!" he yelled and finally, picked up J to carry him away from watching the horrible scene. Hatzi charged into the line, breaking it apart. He bashed as many guards as he could before three of them shocked him all it once. Hatzi fell limply to the floor, his muscles no longer alive to be tightened. Olufsen was leading J blindly. He couldn't trust that the path made by the inmates would actually lead them outside, but it was the only one they had. They entered another large room but were startled to find that it was no longer the guards that were attacking the inmates. All of the mental patients had been set loose and, frightened and confused by the alarms and activity, were beating everyone they saw. Olufsen hugged J in a protective grip and manoeuvred them both through the room, avoiding the patients as they leapt across the room onto people, jumped on dead bodies and senselessly tore at the flesh of live ones. One even tried to attack them; sprinting across the room, arms flailing in the air with a maddened cackle and roar. Olufsen picked up one of the nearby cattle prods laying on the floor and zapped the patient who darted away, screaming in terror and pain. They continued on through the asylum, passing one room where the guards shot down several inmates. Before long, the stampeding crowd lessened in numbers. By the time they made it outside, it felt as though J and Olufsen were the last ones. It was night and the stars were shining brightly. They were however not the brightest light. Many of the inmates had made it outside already and had tore across the bridge in their bid to escape. Now, J and Olufsen watched as helicopters followed them with their search lights and the police blockade stopped them from getting any further than the other end of the bridge to the mainland.

"Shit!" cursed Olufsen. That was the easy way out. Several more inmates pushed past him and J but were deterred to continue across the bridge when they realised how futile it was.

"Look!" pointed J. To their left was the docks where a group of men were boarding a police boat.

"Let's g-" began Olufsen, but was tripped to the ground. He pushed J away as two guards grabbed his feet. "Run, J!" he shouted as he was dragged away and beaten senseless. J didn't argue. He ran along with a dozen others across the field towards the dock. While the others jumped into the water, J had never swum before. He walked up to the police boat and was met by a strange looking man. "Hello." Said J. The man simply raised an eyebrow at the boy. Suddenly, he withdrew his sword and laid it against the boy's shoulder.

"Are you why he did it?" asked the strange man. J had no idea what he meant. He was too afraid the man would kill him. "So you're what the doctor was willing to risk life and limb for?"

"Sir, we must go." Informed another man on the boat. He had a bandage around his left wrist and looked curiously at J. The strange man placed his sword back in its sheath and stepped back onto the boat, leaving J on the dock.

"Good luck to you." He said as the boat pulled away into the distance towards the giant city.

"They're running over this way!" shouted a voice that snapped J back to his senses. He looked back to see several armed guards chasing after the inmates making for the river. "Fire!" shouted one of them and they opened fire. There was nothing to it; J leapt into the water, hearing the loud bangs and screams from the surface. The water was so cold and every breath stung his throat. He had never swum before, but there was no time to learn. He kicked and he moved his arms. Slowly but surely, he was dragged away by the current out into the river along with everyone else who had jumped in. It was the longest and hardest thing he had ever done, with a dead body bobbing by him every now and again. The waves were becoming bigger and bigger as the wind churned the water. It was a miracle he hadn't already drowned.

* * *

"Hello? Hello!" called Clemens, banging on the door. "This is Doctor David Clemens, can anyone hear me? I've been locked inside this cell and would be appreciative if _**anyone**_ would let me out!" He had been in here for quite some time now and didn't like it at all. At least everything had panned out the way it needed to...except for this. His only thoughts were now about J and whether he had gotten away from this place. Through the door, he finally heard the sound of approaching feet. "Hello? Hey, it's Doc Clemens! Open up!" He slammed his fist against the door several times until he knew they were just outside. He heard the lock being broken away from the door and then finally, light pierced his eyes. Unfortunately, the sight was not one to be cheered at.

"Hello, David." Said Hugo Strange. "I hope you are very appreciative of this." He added with a smile.

"Don't be too confident." Commented Clemens as he stood and walked out of the cell. He followed Strange up and through the asylum, seeing the trail of destruction along the way for himself, thankful that so far there was no sign of J.

"What's the damage?" Strange asked a guard.

"We've got at least twenty dead men, two squads trapped in the elevators, thirty-seven prisoner fatalities, dozens wounded on both ends and around fifty unaccounted for as of now." Checked off the guard.

"Any children?"

"Children?" The guard was taken aback. He checked his list with a confused look in his eye. "Uh, no sir."

"Where is the Warden?"

"Personally escorted off the island, sir."

"Well _**that**_ figures." Scoffed Clemens. They walked outside and saw the police on the bridge. They also saw the inmates escaping by the river.

"Get the boats out into the river as soon as possible." Ordered Strange. "Make _**sure**_ you don't kill anyone you may find."

"Right away." The guard pulled out his radio. Strange watched eagerly as several of the helicopters over the bridge made for the prisoners on the ocean, their spotlights revealing them in the darkness.

"It's unusual." He said. "That these people knew exactly how to cripple the system." He turned back to Clemens. "It's almost as if they had help from the inside."

"Mmm." Agreed Clemens with a stern look. He kept his gaze on the river, knowing that one of the silhouettes against the reflected sky was J. As the boats closed in, his hopes were dredged away. J too was experiencing this exact same feeling. The police and coastguard boats circled around the inmates, almost taunting with them. J didn't know what to do but swim. Maybe he wouldn't be noticed. Maybe he would get scooped up by the tide. Maybe he would be recaptured and taken back. No, he couldn't let that happen! Not again! With all his might, he pushed against the freezing cold water and kicked. He swam between the boats that came so close to hitting him. The city was getting closer, the buildings beginning to loom over him. Freedom was so close, he could taste it as much as the salt water in his mouth. Just then, one of the helicopter lights passed over him, blinding him for a moment. As he shielded his eyes, he didn't see the police boat heading towards him. The front of the boat knocked his head and J hit the water, barely floating above the surface. He felt dizzy, the stars were becoming swirling lights. As he felt the breath escaping from him and his body started to sink, a hand wrapped itself around him. For a moment, he feared it was one of the guards pulling him out of the water to take him back to Strange. He felt better when he saw the orange shirt and trousers.

"Don't ya worry, kid." Choked the man through the water splashing his face. "I got ya." J looked down at the man's breast pocket. His name was marked 'J. Chill'. It was the last he saw before passing out in his arms as Mr. Chill swam towards the shore.

The action seemed to be tiring down. The police boats were separating and the helicopters departing in the distance. The guard with the list approached Strange having just gotten off the radio. "Coastguard says; no children were picked up." Strange sighed at the news. "They think nearly a dozen made it into the city, maybe your boys among them."

"No." said Strange. "No, let him go." Clemens was surprised. He had expected Strange to make more of an effort. Strange saw his expression. "It's what you wanted, isn't it?"

"B-But..."

"Hey!" called out a medic to Clemens. "We need some help with this guy. The guards beat him up pretty bad." Clemens recognised the man he was treating; it was Olufsen. He looked from the prisoner to Strange.

"I suggest..." thought Strange. "...that you treat him."

"Thank you." Said Clemens and went about his work. Tomorrow, no matter what, he was handing in his resignation. Strange looked out at the river. The lights were dispersing and darkness descended once again on the cool tide.

"There will always be another...obsession." he mused to himself.

* * *

With great difficulty, Joe Chill pulled the young boy up the dock ladder and lay him down on the wooden planks, huffing and puffing. The boy was still breathing, but Joe was only concerned for his own safety. If the cops were around here, then he shouldn't be. Joe checked that the boy was okay, even lightly smacking his cheeks to wake him up. "Hey, kid." He whispered, even though he was alone. "Kid, you awake?" Bang! Bang! Joe noticed two flashes of light coming from the windows of the nearby warehouse on the pier. He knew those sounds very well; silenced gunshots. Without hesitation, he hauled arse off the pier and into the city, leaving J out cold, his legs hanging off the edge of the dock. The door to the warehouse swung open and three men walked out dressed in dark suits, a fourth was carried out.

"Dump him in, nice and easy." Ordered the one not carrying the body. He lit a cigarette as the other two shuffled to the edge of the pier.

"God, this shmuck weighs a ton." Complained one of them.

"Quit bitching, Zed." Insisted the second carrier. "Just carry him, would ya?" They both stopped at the water and chucked the dead man into the river. "He's the Bureau of Sanitation's problem now!" he chuckled.

"You would be a comedian, wouldn't ya, Trent?" Zed began walking towards a dark sedan not too far away.

"Hey, _**that**_ one wasn't that bad."

"Says you."

"Yeah, says me." Trent turned to the third man with the cigarette. "Hey Red, we're done." But Red wasn't listening. He was looking at something in the half-light. "Red, what is it? Cops?" Suddenly, Red burst into a run. He turned and headed down the nearest dock, right to the end and knelt down before the small boy lying there unconscious.

"Jesus-Trent! Give me a hand!" he called, taking his trench coat off and wrapping it around the freezing wet child.

"Zed, bring the car closer!" instructed Trent. Red picked up the boy, wiping his face clean of the dirty river water.

"It's gonna be okay." He said. "Everything's fine now, you're gonna be alright."

* * *

**Thank you so much for reading Chapter Five and all of Story One! I slaved all night to get this in on time, but it was damn worth it and gave me a lot of satisfaction to see it done. A special thank you to Keywee and MintierBadger for their outstanding support and reviews. It's people like you two who make me look forward to writing Story Two in the future. I hope you all noticed some references I added in and that you enjoyed the story enough to give me a PM or a review.  
**

**I really will miss writing Joker. It's been so much fun. You see, the story originally came to me when I was in high school and I was trying to draw a comic. Unfortunately, I'm not too good at drawing quickly and I just couldn't work the dialogue I wanted into such small squares. FanFiction really allowed me to present it to you in a way I was happy with. In fact, I've gone further than I did in the comic version (mind you, I did that back during chapter one :P ).**

**Anyway, don't be forgetting this storyline too quickly. I'll come back with 'Story Two: Gotham's Red Knight' sometime shortly. Until then (if you haven't already, but if you have you should still do this) go and read Keywee's own Joker Origin story: The House That Jack Built. She's getting near the end of writing it, but it's a fantastic story with great characters and even better twists on the 'accepted' origin. Once again, thank you for reading and farewell for now!**


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